Maybe We Could
by portable tragedy
Summary: "With you, chere, I ain't playin'." -Remy arrives at the mansion from a long-term undercover assignment to find an intriguing, and isolated, new student with a power that leaves him as breathless as her green eyes do. ROMY. (Because, who else, really?)
1. Glossary

Hi and welcome!

Don't let this scare you off. There's not soooo much French that you couldn't just skim right over it if ya wanted. Also, hey, I don't know French! This is collected from books, around the web, and some help from fellow writers/readers.

It is Cajun French, so it diverges a bit from modern French spoken on the Continent. Where I've figured this out, I try to explain.

**Tips:**New French is posted here _and_ at the bottom of the post it appears in for the first time. If you want a quick reference open the glossary in one tab and open the story in another. I find flipping easier than scrolling.

_Happy reading!_

P.S. Also, I am missing some accent marks and have some other weird things. I will go back and fix this sometime. Probably.

**Glossary**

**Alohrs Pas**—Of course not

**Ami**—friend

**Arrete, toi**—Stop, you

**Assez**—Enough

**Belle**—Pretty

**Bon**—Good

**Bonhomie**—geniality; pleasant disposition

**Bonne fête**—Happy Birthday

**Catin—**doll (in Cajun French); in France it has come to mean prostitute but Cajun French adheres to an older tradition

**Ce n'est pas ma faute — **It's not my fault.

**C'est tout**—That's all

**Cher**—masculine for dear

**Chère**—feminine for dear

**Chien**—dog

**Comment les affaires?**—How are things?

**couillon**—fool (not particularly harsh and can even be used affectionately)

**désolé**—Sorry (masculine)

**En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie.**— In her beauty rests (both) my death and my life. Quote from Maurice Scève, French poet

**envie**—hunger or craving for something; said to a person it would mean sexual desire e.g. J_'ai envie de toi._ (I want you. Note: A way of saying it with warmth, not vulgarly.)

**exactement**—exactly

**famille**— family

**Fils de putain**—son of a bitch

**Gaienne**—Girlfriend

**Homme**—man

**Je t'aime** — I love you.

**Je t'adore** — I adore you.

**jolie fille**—pretty girl; doll

**la petite morte**— literally: the little death; figuratively it is a reference to orgasm

**Le Bon Dieu!**—The Good God

**Le Diable Blanc**—The White Devil, one of the names Remy has been known by as his eyes 'cause people to think him demonic

**ma**— my (feminine)

**Mais**—well or of course, for emphasis

**make the**_**misère**_(or, make the misery)—to cause trouble for

**mon**—my (masculine or preceding a word beginning with a vowel)

**mon ami**—my friend

**mon amour**—my love

**mon chou**— my cabbage (French term of endearment)

**mon coeur**—my heart

**mon loup** — my wolf (French term of endearment)

**non**—no

**Ouah!**— Yes. More casual that oui, rather more like "yeah"

**oui**—yes

**père** — father

**petite**—Little (little girl)

**petite bouche**—little mouth

**Pop chock**—small brown bird

**Qui—**in this case, who (I am not getting too in depth on French grammar as apparently qui and que are interchangeable depending on whether they are a direct or an indirect objects)

**Salope!**—Bitch

**Savate**—French Kick Boxing, one of the styles of fighting Remy is known for

**'tite chatte**—little cat

**Viens ici**—Come here


	2. Chapter 1: The Workout

Hey, this is my first fanfiction writing. Kinda learning the site and how it works with this. Tips, advice, input, feedback-it's all welcome!

As for the story-if you are a purist for the comics or the films, this is not for you. I'm pulling from everywhere and mashing it up as I see fit. It's very ROMY and there will be romance, 'cause that's how I roll. If you do read on, I hope you enjoy it!

**Standard Disclaimer:** As seen on TV-Except, not, actually. I own nothing. X-Men belong to Marvel (and my heart, but mostly for legal purposes to Marvel).

* * *

**Chapter 1:** The Workout

"Ain't no one goin' in?" The whiskey drawl broke up the small pack of students gathered at the weight room. Eyes darted to the only recently returned X-Man, Gambit.

One of the boys—Bobo or Bopsy, Remy didn't know one crew-cut sweater wearing GAP ad from the next—spoke after a lengthy pause. "No. Rogue's working out."

Gambit lifted a brow. "One itty bitty f_emme_ need a whole gym? What, her sweat poison?" He noted those that snickered, though his red on black eyes seemed to stay focused on their spokes-boy.

"Uh, no, not—"

"Well, den, I don't see a problem." With that, and a lazy wink to the girls in the group, he pushed into the gym. There was no worry the girl inside had heard the conversation as, rather than wear headphones, she had commandeered the radio and The Cure was moodily crooning a song as she did leg presses in a studied rhythm. She did hear the door, or sense the shift in the air, because bright green eyes focused on Gambit. What should have been a look as clear as fine cut emeralds was maybe the most complicated one he'd ever been on the receiving end of, until something slammed down behind the eyes so that they were as dull as swamp bracken.

"Hope you don't mind sharing, _chere_. Just got in and need a good workout, yeah?'

Rogue said nothing in return. She purposefully turned her gaze forward and tried to resume counting, though she kept losing track. How could she keep track when he was loping toward her with more of their collective skin exposed than she had been comfortable with since her mutation had manifested? And his collective skin was burnished and stretched over long, lean muscle. The kind that one of Kitty's magazines would say only had 3% body fat. She figured he'd been warned about her own skin and the kinds of horror stories magazines would print about it so she concentrated on forgetting he was there.

But, Remy LeBeau, Prince of Thieves, didn't seem to take the hint. "Hope you don't mind, Rogue, but its nice not having a crowd, yeah? But maybe next time I can introduce you to some zydeco." He chatted as if she had at any point responded to his words or his presence, his Cajun drawl just as amiable as when he'd walked in the door. Only now it was closer as he was sitting himself down on the machine next to hers. "Where are my manners? See a pretty _fille_ and I get all messed up. Some call me Gambit and it sure is a pleasure to meet you, _petite_."

Rogue turned to stare at the hand he extended. It was oddly gloved, with certain fingers completely free. Her own hands were unfettered. No one came in here when she worked out, too afraid of bumping up against her when they were wearing so little. Or she was. Except, at first, she'd worn her gloves and sweats and a long-sleeved tee. It was only when she realized no one would come into the gym with her that she decided to take advantage and opted for shorts and a tank and, finally, no gloves. "I can't."

"Someone told you not to talk to strangers?" Remy grinned, his tone playful as he withdrew his hand.

"No. I mean I can't. Didn't anyone warn you?"

Remy shrugged. "Just that your sweat wasn't poison."

"So they forgot to mention that my skin is?" The southern was sharp when she asked; whatever muddy rivers he might've been imagining playing black jack on from the first words, he suddenly remembered southern women were made of steel.

Remy's gaze drifted from the girl's eyes to her pale skin, it was naturally gold-dusted but anyone could tell it didn't get much sunlight. "Non, _chere_, no one mentioned you was poison at all." He looked up to catch her scowling down at him and lifted a brow in question.

"It don't turn yellow and leak gasses. But you touch me, even accidentally, and I take."

He thought she'd paused, trying to find the words to explain what those in the mutant world often called leaching. "Take what, _cherie_?" He prompted softly, his gaze fixed on her face.

"Everythin'." For a moment, that hard look was gone; the simplicity of the loss in this one near to took his breath away. Then, she turned and even though she was in the room—pulling on a long sleeved shirt and pants over her shorts before shoving her fingers into gloves—the girl was gone.


	3. Chapter 2: In the Gym

**Oddly enough, I still own nothing. Hmph. (Last of the disclaiming.)**

**Chapter 2: **In the Gym

She was sure the Louisianan would leave her alone, now that he was in the know. She'd have her work out back and that's as she wanted it. Rogue pretended she didn't hear the girls whispering about the infamous Gambit, about how he disappeared on missions for months, and when he came back he went out most nights only to return with his eyes heavy and trailing feminine perfume. Rumours were he'd never been a student but he picked one every year to "tutor". But Rogue didn't hear those rumours. Nope. And she certainly pretended she didn't hear the girls saying how much "help" they needed in any subject he chose to teach.

Next morning, between am classes and lunch, she went back to the gym and stripped out of sweats, peeled off her long-sleeved tee. She kept them close in case of emergencies. But just as she was about to tug her gloves off, she hesitated. Just in case he came back she wanted to be able to shake his hand. It would be rude otherwise. And really she shouldn't have been so reckless as to not wear them in the first place. Or so she rationalized as she moved onto a treadmill and set it for an hour's run.

Rogue also told herself she was not watching the door hoping he'd show up again in his low-slung pants and black tank. Which meant she didn't have to whip her head towards a blank TV when he pushed into the room, his mouth all ready moving into a smile as he waved a CD at her. "We gon' share the radio, yeah? Today I bring you N'Awlins, tomorrow you pick." He winked, auburn lashes sweeping down as he closed one eye and Rogue wondered if the man dyed the damned things.

Into her silence the thief kept right on talking as he cranked up his music. "Now, dat's what I'm talkin' 'bout." He closed his eyes and then started singing along as he ambled towards the treadmills, obviously in no rush since there was only one occupied machine. Of course, Rogue would've thought it meant he could choose one farther away from her. Remy would've asked her how she thought they'd talk if he clear across the room. "Aw, now, _chere_, you didn't have to go wearin' no gloves for me. I got my own."

Rogue listened to their machines slowly start to match pace before slanting him a look. "Your gloves don't offer quite the protection you need from me."

"I assure you, _chere_, I don't never touch a woman without knowin' exactly how and where she wants me to touch her." His smile was wicked and, combined with his drawl, did most of the work charming any female he came across.

Anna-Marie was not most women. Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Good. Bein' touched by you is about the last thing I'd want." And the last thing she'd expected in response was his laughter. It made it awful hard to keep down the twitch to the left side of her mouth that might have wanted to be a smile.


	4. Chapter 3: Rumour Has It

**Chapter 3:** Rumour Has It

She was sitting with Bobby and John that evening. The boys were arguing about an explosion on screen but Rogue's gaze was unfocused and her attention internal. For once, it had nothing to do with the collateral personalities she'd acquired but a certain lanky mutant. Little wonder, then, that she was startled by a quick tug on her curls. Rogue jerked, whipping her head only to find the irrepressible Cajun sauntering out of the room. He turned back to wink and knew he'd remember that smile. It might have been close lipped and wry, but he'd gotten it.

"You two seem…close." Bobby said when Remy was well-gone. Rogue blinked at the boy, her cool and unwavering gaze finally making him fidget and elaborate. "I only mean—"

"That he works out with you," John interrupted, "touches you."

"No one touches me, John." Rogues voice was hard. Pushing up from her seat, the movie affectively ruined, she looked down at both boys, a strand of white curl obscuring her vision. "Did ya'll think you were always gonna be the only ones wanted to talk t'me?"

Bobby put his hand up, reaching for hers, but he stopped before he actually made contact with her gloves. "C'mon, Rogue, it's not like that."

"Sure it ain't, Bobby."

John barely waited for her to leave before he hissed "Why'd you have to say something?"

"Why'd you have to make it sound like they _do things _together, " Bobby countered. "Everyone knows she can't."

Pyro's fingers lit and Bobby iced them instantly. "There's things she could _do, _over the clothes or with some gloves."

A low, masculine chuckle interrupted the argument that didn't exclusively belong to the boys. The room wasn't exactly unoccupied, everyone had just been pretending, poorly, not to listen. "Ain't dat de truth." Neither Iceman nor Pyro thought the Cajun was being friendly. "But ya'll wouldn't be talkin' 'bout no ladies like dat, would you? 'Cause a gentleman, he don' kiss and tell."

"No, sir," Bobby answered, jaw tight, while Pyro merely shook his head.

"De name's Gambit. I ain't no teacher, _homme_." And he wasn't more than a couple years older than them. _Dieu_, they were young fools, the both of them. A smile, wicked and knowing, slashed across his mouth before he left again and the room exploded into talk.

"Do you think he's kissed her—"

"Without passing out?"

"Maybe more."

"…could do whatever he wanted with me."

Bobby and John turned the television up and kept their mouths shut.

So it was anyone's guess how Rogue heard the rumorus the night's interplay had sparked while Gambit, well, hadn't.

Knowing he was to be at the next Danger Room training, Rogue arrived early, hoping to catch that good for nothing Bayou Boy before any of the others arrived. Luck was with her, for once.

"Rogue, _ma cherie_," she could have sworn his eyes were glowing as she stalked towards him, "you be early. _Bon_. You be on my team, yeah? I don't know 'bout those other fools a'tall." And, in fact, Rogue was right about the glow. Remy was glad to see her and he liked the way she was prowling towards him, her gold-dust skin flushed and her green eyes fixed. Right up until her palms slammed into his chest and shoved.

"How dare you?!" Remy stumbled, unprepared for the blow or the accusation implied in the question.

"_Chere_,-

"Don't you call me that you flea-bitten Swamp Rat."

"Now, Rogue," he held up a placating hand and reached for her with the other-unwisely, a self-preserving voice in his head warned.

"They all think we're, that we're—" She couldn't even say it while looking into his eyes so she swatted the hand about to curl around her wrist as an excuse to look away. "That you and I—that we've been…"

"_Chere_," her gaze came up and Remy had no doubt that if her power had been in her gaze he'd be unconscious on the concrete floor right now. "Rogue. I don't know what you're talking about. Who thinks we're what?"

"That you and me are sleepin' together, Swamp Rat." Remy was, for once, completely surprised but Rogue didn't notice, plowing ahead and stepping even closer. "Everyone seems to think ladies man _Gambit_," there was such acid in what sounded like a title when she said it, "found a way 'round my mutation and I'm just so damn grateful I fell into your lap. Literally."

Thankful she wasn't yelling and not unaware that people were starting to wander in, Remy grabbed her hand and held on tight when she tried to jerk away. His voice, clipped, said only, "_Assez," _as he turned them, effectively shielding her smaller frame from the curious looks. He leaned in, ignoring the lethal look she was giving him, and said without a trace of his trademark playfulness. "Hush now and listen. We can't talk here and now 'bout this, but you tell me: You think they gonna act better if they realize I ain't afraid of you or if you so mad at the thought of someone kissing you that you kick this sorry Cajun's ass in front of 'em?"

He watched her mouth open, no doubt on a hot retort, but he leaned low, close enough his breath feathered her lips as he spoke. "I never told no one we did nothin' , Rogue." When she hesitated, he continued. "I don't spread lies about ladies and especially when I think mebbe you and me could be friends. After de Danger Room session, what say you and I get outta here? Talk dis thing out?" He waited to see if she'd pull away, say no, but again she didn't jump into the opportunity to reject him. So, he smiled slow, some of that playfulness taking the weighty edge off of sincerity, and went in for the kill. (He hoped. She was pretty damn hard to read.) "I'm flattered dey'd tink you'd give me de time a day what with all those other boys buzzin' 'round. Mebbe you don't embarrass me in front of everyone just yet?"

She laughed suddenly and, while he hated realizing it was at her own expense—he knew she thought he was feeding her an impossible line—he was glad she wasn't ripping off her gloves and slamming her hand in his no good face.

"That looks like a yes. Dat a yess, _belle fille_?" He watched her, all but holding his breath, until she finally dipped her chin in a single, sharp nod.

Wolverine's gruff voice cut through then. "All right, come on. We aint' got all day."

So Gambit turned, keeping Rogue's leather gloved hand in his own. When he linked his fingers through hers, half-expecting them to slide away, he could feel her indecision like a vibration before they finally curled over his own.


	5. Chapter 4: Exactly

**So, wow.**** Y'all are amazing and fast with the lovely reviews. One thing everyone said was LONGER CHAPTERS, so here's to that. The first ones and some that are slated for later were really just scenes I'd thought up in my head to pass the time on slow days at work with a loose plot holding it all together. So, we'll be finding out what's going to happen together.**

**Also, I will try to update once a week sometime between Sunday and Tuesday (that is my "weekend").**

**Chapter 4:** Exactly

**H**e'd showered and changed quickly, afraid if she beat him outside he'd have missed his opportunity to fix this. And he wasn't wrong, all ready had her figured with a poker player's accuracy. If he hadn't been out there when she stepped onto the wide stairs of the mansion, the double doors swinging shut under the impetus of their own weight, Rogue would've have gone back inside and written him off and a crowbar wouldn't have helped pry her foul opinion of him loose.

What exactly her current opinion of him was, however, was something of a mystery even to Rogue. "Of course," mumbled out of ear shot, thankfully, as she descended the stairs. Of course he had a motorcycle. Of course he was leaning there in a pair of sunglasses looking inscrutable and, as Kitty's magazines as well as every female at Xavier's would say, hot.

"Do you know how to ride that thing?"

"Of course." The moment she was in reach he captured a hand and encouraged her to get a little closer. "Don't worry, _chere,_ it's just to keep you safe." Proving his point, he brought up a helmet and settled it on her head. The man too his own sweet time adjusting it, brushing her hands away every time she made to take over. When it was finally fastened, he put on his own—rather more efficiently—and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. Rogue had somehow thought he'd forgo the safety precaution. Self-preservation didn't seem a top priority.

And where was her own, anyway? She couldn't see faces pressed to windows, but that didn't mean they weren't there, watching as she swung on behind him, her thighs cradling his—there was, after all, little option to do otherwise. And how was this helping the rumours, exactly? At least she could keep contact to a minimum, her hands resting lightly at his sides and her torso tilted away from his.

At least, in theory. Turning his head slightly, just enough so Rogue could hear, Remy murmured in that high-summer swelter of a voice, "That ain't good enough, _chere_. Can't have you fallin' off." He pulled her hands around until they splayed against his stomach and the rest of her was plastered to his back. Giving her no time to protest or undo his work, the unrepentant Cajun took off at speeds ensuring Rogue was glad of the forced hold. She'd heard he liked it fast, she'd just thought everyone had only been talking about women.

At five minutes, the ride was longer than she'd expected. She never spent time this physically close to anyone when not fighting. Wolverine was the exception and being pressed up to him on a motorcycle wasn't exactly the same as being pressed up to Gambit. For one, Wolverine smelled familiarly of fresh cut wood and lemon grass and cigars; Gambit, on the other hand, smelled of cigarillos—not quite the same—and left her with the sense of an after-burn of a match-strike and something spicy and earthy that she couldn't name. Wolverine was solidity and reliability; Remy was volatile. It was just too intimate, hugging him around his lean waist, cheek pressed against his shoulder even if it was through the jacket.

But maybe being this close was better than the distance in a car, the kind of space that had to be filled. This way, they each rode tightly together but their thoughts were neatly compartmentalized. Private.

Remy certainly had no idea the petite girl holding onto him was wondering if he liked cherry cigarillos or what his red and black eyes would look like when they stopped warming at the sight of her, when he understood just what she was. When he'd seen her and one of her victims like the students at Xavier's had seen her with Wolverine after he'd accidentally stabbed her and she'd very nearly killed him in return. And Remy had no intention of that same slim girl knowing that he liked the way a single red curl had tangled over his shoulder, into the collar of his jacket where it brushed his cheek and brought to mind apple blossoms. Scare her straight off, he knew, and send her back to silence and gym workouts with nothin' but 80s music to keep her company.

**T**he bike and its riders took the curves fluidly and at high speeds, winding up and away from Xavier's, up and away from the city beyond. The sun was soon blocked by trees just greening and the air took on that particular quality of woods on mountains—crisp-edged, as if it never tasted heat, and thick with the smell of damp and decay in all the ways that made lungs expand and even the most novice of hikers want to trek into the wilderness as if to rediscover America's frontiers.

Eventually, asphalt gave way to a smaller, dirt-packed path and Rogue wondered if he wasn't taking her out there to ditch her. Carrie-esque pranks played out in vivid, blood-splashed detail. She'd been expecting a bar. Even a hole-in-the-wall that reeked of stale cigarettes and had floors sticky with substances it was better not to contemplate had seemed likely and acceptable. She'd figured he'd save the nicer places, the places where he picked up the owners of the perfume he trailed through the halls just before dawn, for times when he didn't have an untouchable pissed off freak to be embarrassed by; she hadn't expected him to chuck her into the woods to escape being seen with her.

He finally stopped, all but on the edge of a cliff, and they both climbed off and hooked their helmets loosely on the handles of his bike. There was certainly no one who was going to happen by and take them. Gambit remained what she guessed was uncharacteristically nonverbal, gesturing to the flat rocks and taking up residence on one so they'd both look out over the sun-bright world below.

She'd just sat down, crossing her legs, leather gloves scraping over rock, when his voice broke the quiet. "All right, _petite_, let's have it."

"Have what?"

Remy looked over the small chin, the hint of a scowl tugging at her winged brows, and the guarded green eyes. "All the things you wanted to yell, _chere_. Cain't no one hear but me and you now," he splayed his hands, gesturing to their isolated location as if he expected her to pick up from where she'd shoved him. When she simply gawped back, apparently struck dumb by his offer, he continued. "I help you find your place, f_ille_. I think it was something like 'You flea-chewed Swamp—'"

"That's enough. " Reliably, a slight smile edged his mouth. "I was pissed off. They were saying—" she stopped, pulling air in through nearly closed lips. "Look, Cajun, you're the one wanted t'talk."

"You sure are cute when you poutin', _ange_." Remy had to swallow a laugh, he was fairly certain she'd growled at him. Obviously, the _petite fille_ spent too much time with the Wolverine. "Rogue, I didn't do this_._ I got a reputation, c_here_, and you, well, so do you."

It wasn't exactly the apology she'd been expecting. "Yeah, for being untouchable. Which doesn't explain –

He held up a hand, arresting the rest of her complaint. "Naw, well, yeah, you do but not just for that." Shifting on the rock to get comfortable, crooking an arm on an up-drawn knee and producing a quarter to flip over the back of his gloved fingers, he took his time studying her in profile. Stubborn. The girl was just pure damn stubborn. _"Chere_, most of dem just don't know what to do with you. They unsure of you, intimidated. You end up in my bed, well, I am de master seducer," his grin was a lightning strike, "and you suddenly just a little more like 'em, yeah? A little less above of 'em all."

The man was obviously insane. "A little less above them? Are you crazy? I ain't nothin' but dirt to most of 'em. If it weren't for Bobby and John—"

"Benny and the firebug part o' why everyone look at you dat way." His free hand came up, stopping the protest as it prepared to launch from lips screwed up into indignation. "Brad's the kinda boy you girls dream about, no?"

He seemed to want an answer and Rogue wasn't about to tell him there was more than one kind of boy girls dreamed about. He'd probably take it exactly as she meant it: he was the other. "Maybe. Some girls, sure."

"Yeah, ya'll scribble his last name with yours and think about you gonna have a picket fence and a golden retriever. But that boy? That sweet dream in a sweater? He ain't got nothin' but eyes for you. And, _petite,_ everyone knows he ain't there tryin' to get in your pants."

"Don't sugarcoat it or anything. I take powers temporarily, that don't make me invincible," muttered darkly back at him.

Remy's responding smile hung crooked and easy on his face, as natural as the crescent moon hung in the sky and equally as alien to Rogue. "What I mean, _chere_, is that no matter how much he want you, he ain't stickin' around thinkin' you gonna give him the _one_ thing _every other_ boy hangin' around _every other_ girl for. And then you got bad attitude firebug, ain't nobody's idea of a prince, doin' the same damn thing. De girls, dey don't know what you got, but they wish they had it."

"Then they're ignorant."

"Mebbe. But you ain't gotta worry anyone's stayin' around to get in your pants, no? And most of them, they figure that's the only reason boys stickin' around with them."'

"Naw, people just hang around me for the novelty."

One bare finger and one gloved one scissored around a curl and tugged. He waited until she'd turned to face him again before saying, "Dat ain't why dem boys hangin' 'round. And it ain't why I am either. "

She was quiet a long time, but Remy Etienne LeBeau was a man with practically infinite patience. No one guessed it. They saw him as a playboy and a gambler, a man who took his gratification immediately and as frequently as he could get it. What only a few were privy too was that his real talent lay in the long game. Rogue didn't stand a chance; she was a pure tyro.

Eventually, her voice drawled, "Did you mean it?"

"If I said it to you I'm sure I did." Rogue's eyes narrowed and Remy's smile widened at the sight. "Did I mean what, Rogue?"

"About us bein' friends?" Her fingers picked at a hole in her jeans, pulling out white threads while she cast him quick sideways glances.

"Oui."

Her brows rose when he failed to elaborate and his smile seemed to pick up, again, in infuriating correlation to her frustration. Exasperated, she bit out, "Why?"

"Mebbe it's the southern connection."

"Try again, Romeo."

He tipped his head back and laughed, all but roared with it. "Mebbe it's dat right there, _petite_. You got some mouth on you."

"I'm sassy enough to be your token un-slept with female side-kick?"

The bitter disgust in her tone only amused him more, plus the moue made with her mouth looked just like she'd tasted something sour and foul. Irresistible, that. He just had to reach out and stroke it. Of course she dodged away from the touch.

"_Non, chere, _sassy enough to keep me inline, honest enough I can trust you, smart enough not to bore me, and pretty enough to stare at most all the hours of the day." When she rolled her eyes in obvious disbelief and dismissal, his smile fell. "_Non._ Dat's de truth, or part of it. Some of the rest you ain't gonna believe just yet and some of the other you don't wanna hear, but that don' change what's true. " Again, a seriousness all those rumours she hadn't heard hadn't prepared her for seemed thick between them. "You decide what you gonna do with it."

Rogue wanted to say his next move had him stalking away but the mutant's long-limbed stridr was too loose for that. No, he was prowling away from her. And while it was exactly why she'd pushed and exactly what she expected—if not now, _soon_—she didn't like the sight of his back, already missed that moon-crooked smile and the dangerous way he invaded her personal space. "Alright."

"Alright, what?"

Rogue took a deep breath. Then another. He didn't try to fill in the words she was struggling with. "Alright. Despite the fact that you got'a reputation two shades darker than black, a tongue practically made from sugar cane—which ain't no compliment so stop your grinnin', and I've only known you three damn days, I believe you. About most of it. The important stuff." His shoulders were shaking as she qualified her conditional belief. Rogue rolled her eyes. "Oh, just laugh, damn it. I believe you didn't tell anyone we were—that you had—that I—_that._ And that you ain't tryin' to get in my pants," the next part was said low and for herself, "mostly 'cause that'd kill ya," before she picked up volume again, "so we can be—try to be—friends." That just felt idiotic to say out loud, especially when he was laughing at her and she knew it.

But when Gambit turned back, prowling again, looking like he was going to snap her up in those strong white teeth and take a nice bite out of her, there was nothing mocking about him. "_Bon. _You gonna love bein' my friend, _chere_."

His voice was practically tangible and if it had been, it would have been touching her in unsafe ways. "Don't make me regret this, Cajun."

"I'm'a make you wonder what took you so long."

"I've only known you for three days."

"Exactly."


	6. Chapter 5: Lecture, Lecture

**Chapter 5:** Lecture, Lecture

Their obvious friendship did nothing to deter the rumours. In fact, just the opposite. So much so that Remy found himself in two very different, very uncomfortable conversations in one day. And just when he was behaving his most admirably towards a female of the species that he wasn't closely related to.

_It was Wolverine in the kitchen with a wrench._ Remy had seen his death writ large on the other man's face for days, every time Logan caught Remy and Rogue together. Whether it was in the gym during their daily workout, teamed up or fighting in the Danger Room, or grabbing a snack in the kitchen. Didn't matter how innocuous the activity, Logan's look read dismemberment, disembowelment-lots of taking him apart, in other words. So Gambit, smart man that he was, should've left the minute the Wolverine came in smeared in grease and a muscle already jumping in his jaw. And that was before he'd even noticed the Cajun. Instead, Remy leaned back against the counter and sipped his beer.

It didn't take long. Wolverine was predictable at least. He growled. That made Remy think of petite little Rogue snarling through her teeth at him and he chuckled, low and throaty and wasted on his current audience. "Hey, _cher_, your bike actin' up?"

Ignoring what he said, Logan opted for scowling at the beer can dangling from the younger man's hands. "Isn't it a little early for that?" His voice was sand-paper and rusty nails, probably needed a tetanus shot just from talking to him.

"Naw, Saturday and we 'bout to cook out. Beers de only drink that's right." A salute of the can punctuated the answer.

Logan snatched his own beer from the fridge, either oblivious to the hypocrisy or just not giving two fucks. Might could be either, Remy figured. "Look, kid, I don't like you."

Feigning shock, Remy placed one swift-fingered hand on his chest. "_Le Bon Dieu!_ I thought me and you was—how your students say it—besties? Or at least frenemies, _cher_."

Logan looked like he wanted to use his teeth instead of his claws to de-throat him. "We don't like each other. You're a reckless smart ass. And that was fine until you got in my way."

"Oh! You want de sink, _homme_? _Pardon."_ With a half-bow and a flourish of his empty hand, Gambit slid out of the way.

"Stop actin' as dumb as I think you are, Gumbo. Rogue ain't gonna be some notch on your belt."

A flicker of irritation went hot in Gambit's gut. Patience, when warranted, he had in abundance, but that didn't mean he didn't also have a wicked temper.

"You ain't gonna hurt her."

"Me? Hurt Rogue?" Remy took a sip of his beer, leaning against the counter as if he felt as casual as his patois sounded. "Like mebbe I shouldn't stab her with my adamantium claws, you mean?" The can Logan was holding was suddenly in structural duress. "_Non?_ You got somethin' else in mind? Mebbe I shouldn't ignore her, exclude her, talk 'bout how she a freak, de kind even de other freaks don' like?" The mild tone was slipping and he set his own beer aside, fingers itching to charge something and fling it at Logan. The other man'd be fine. He could survive just about anything, no?

"Look, bub,-"

"_Assez_. You look, Logan, I know de girl for a week. And I know she ain't doin' jus' fine widout me. You know I can't seduce her a—

"You and I both know you could."

Teeth gritted, ground together, but he pushed on. "I ain't jus' gonna leave her alone like you all have 'cause you say so. She so lonely she cain't see straight and what you doin' about it, _homme_? 'Sides tryin' to scare one out of the three, mebbe four, people who even speak t'her?"

Somehow, between the temper and the words they found themselves toe to toe in the middle of the mansion's spotless kitchen. "She's got friends, Gumbo, better 'en you. Don't tell me how to-"

"Help her? Is anyone even tryin' to teach her to control her mutation? Or ya'll jus' think she screwed? Mebbe you hope she is, Logan; she sure cain't leave you alone if she cain't be with anyone else."

That's when Logan shoved his hands into the lanky, younger mutant and sent him slamming into the counter he'd been leaning on moments before. Remy was about to retaliate when a feminine voice stopped him cold.

"Is there a problem?" Jean Grey. She stood cool and lovely in the doorway, Scott at her back. Once they were in front of the grill they'd look like an ad for a fancy barbecue or a new suburban development catering to young, yuppy couples. Remy still liked her though.

So, his smile was sudden and crooked but it never did reach his red on black eyes. "No, _chere_, just chattin' with my 'ol friend, Logan. T'ink dis chat's over, though." Leaving behind his beer, as well as Jean and Scott and the Wolverine, he went to see if he couldn't settle himself down before the cook out.

Which naturally meant he ran into Ororo half-dancing down the stairs; he wasn't sure if it was good luck or bad that had hold of him, but either way Lady Luck was a bitch. "Remy. Just who I was looking for."

He never let his ambivalence show, his smile smooth as alarm bells sounded. "I love it when beautiful women come looking for me. How may I serve you?"

"Are you joining us for the cookout?"

"Dat's my plan, _belle_. May I escort my favorite lady at Xavier's?" Formally offering his arm, he smiled down at the diminutive and terrifyingly powerful woman.

Arms linked, she started them down the hall. "Am I?"

"My favorite? _Oui._ You know dis, Ororo."

"I thought maybe you had a new favorite, say with green eyes and —

"Not you too," he practically groaned. Ororo's brows rose in question. "You gonna give me the 'Don't mess with Rogue' speech, yeah? Don't seduce her and leave her inna slum hotel, used, with a coke needle sticking outta her arm?"

Her laugh was incredulous, shocked, but not amused as she stalled him and stepped in his path. "Why would you ever think I would say such a thing to you or think such a thing about you?"

Her faint accent thickened, as he knew it did with strong emotion. Made his skin feel tight. "De Wolverine done read me da riot act 'bout how she got enough friends and don't need no trashy thief."

Remy couldn't look her in the eye. Ororo was one of the few he'd gotten close to outside of his family and she knew too much. Every bit of that knowledge was in her softly spoken, "He's wrong, Remy. Logan's wrong."

"Tell me. Dat girl got mebbe three friends and a whole lotta nothin' else."

"Yes, he's wrong about her, but he's also wrong about you." Fed up with the way he kept looking down the hall as if expecting someone-or hoping for anyone—she placed one hand against his strong jaw. She didn't push. She waited for the young man—Logan forgot he was still so young-to meet her gaze. "You may be a thief, and a gifted one," his smile tugged at her, "but you are also a good man, Remy LeBeau. No—" She could see him folding up, about to put on the charm in order to derail this conversation, but Storm wasn't having any of it. "You cannot hide it from me with sly words and flirtation. I know who you are and what you do for us out there. And I know what it costs you."

They locked eyes for a long time before he tilted his head, pressing his cheek into her palm and pressing his hand over hers to keep it just there. "You undo me. Every time."

Not enough. No one ever got much deeper than that vivid personality. "What I was going to say before your untimely interruption," pointed both in voice and, "is that I wouldn't mind if I was being taken down to your number two spot. I think you'll be good for each other. Don't let her scare you off."

"It ain't like dat."

Storm withdrew her hand, linking their arms once more. "I never said it was. Now, let's eat."

"Yes, ma'am." They resumed walking but Remy had one last thing to say on the subject: "I don't scare easy."

Of course, having a conversation of a personal nature in the hallway of a school for gifted youngsters practically guaranteed someone would overhear it.


	7. Chapter 6: The Cookout

**Thank you for following and commenting and being made of pure awesomeness! Especially thank you for the comments on characterization. I've noticed some typos and will be going back to fix those and the lack of accent marks in the French. Still working on some general formatting stuff I'm dissatisfied with, like how to break in the middle of a chapter without actually making a new one. Also, on the French, I've added a glossary which I will update as needed. Figured that might be easier than doing it at the end of every chapter as a lot of the words and phrases will be used repeatedly.  
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**THANK YOU. Again. I hope you keep enjoying it!  
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**Chapter 6:** Cookout

**W**as he so dangerous that Rogue, the untouchable girl, wasn't even safe in his debauched company? Remy scrubbed a hand over his face, unable to shake the Wolverine's accusations. Sure, Storm had countered them, but the Wolverine had a more accurate view of the Prince of Thieves, or so Gambit thought as he stared out at the cookout.

Rogue was out there, gaze going from Jimmy twirling fire on his hand, to skimming the rest of the yard. Maybe she was looking for Icecube, "Or mebbe she lookin' for you." She was going to have to be disappointed if that was the case. He was feeling just a little raw; enough that he'd ditched Ororo at the door saying he'd left his beer back in the kitchen and he'd be right back out. Bold-faced lie he'd told to the weather witch, too, and one she didn't seem to buy though she let him go.

What did anyone expect? How was he supposed to be a better kind of man or have any kind of anything when every other month he had to put on those old wolf's clothes in order to do his damn job? Mutants everywhere thought he was a free agent whose loyalties could be temporarily purchased for the right price. Couldn't trust the thief no farther than you could throw him, o'course, but he had quite a set of skills—and the most marketable ones had nothin' to do with his mutation.

"_Merde."_

"Is it that bad, then?" Xavier's voice was cultured and warm and it cut through Remy like a knife.

"Professor." Turning slowly, the Cajun schooled his features and tamped down his frustrations.

"I'm sorry I've been away since you returned. I had hoped we'd have a chance to speak sooner than this. Is everything well with you?"

The Professor, he looked worried, and that was the last thing Gambit wanted. "_Mais_ yeah, Professor, the mission went down just like we planned it. Not too much improvisin' required." A wicked smile making the statement that he'd enjoyed what improvising there had been.

"I had heard that, of course, Gambit." Charles' smile was slight, one of those elegant hands turning. "However, I meant rather more personally. I know these missions can be…quite difficult… and the last was more so than most."

"Naw, just a longer one."

"You were imbedded with the Brotherhood during a particularly volatile time and a confrontation with your fellow X-Men."

"I managed to keep away from New York and keep my cover, Professor. Everyone t'inks I come here to get a little information and you let me 'cause you a soft touch." The wolfish smile said he was amused by everyone's perceptions.

But the Professor looked troubled as he turned his wheelchair and gestured for Remy to sit. "I'm rather less worried about your cover remaining in tact than I am how this is all affecting you. There seem to be…concerns, from some of the team since you've returned."

Everything inside Remy went still. Charles too? Charles was worried he was a bad influence on Rogue too? That he was gonna use her? Pervert her? That he wasn't good enough to be friends with that complicated, sad-eyed girl? That he'd twist her need for a friend like that? "Den mebbe it's time I go."

Silence was only momentary and, on Xavier's end, stemmed partially from confusion. "Gambit, I'm sorry, I believe I have mishandled this. Has something happened? Jean expressed her concern to me about the toll this line of work and our extreme reliance on you to accomplish it could have. Hank also." Fingers steepled, brow furrowed, and his warm tone became ripe with regret. "We had planned to speak with you about a lengthier break when you returned this time, but I was called away, and, unfortunately, we have need of you again. And, yet, I don't believe that's what's bothering you now. "

_Merde._ He'd gotten it wrong. "No, Professor. No. Jus'—itichin' to get back to work, yeah?"

Charles knew that to push the young mutant on the point, to try and attempt to force his confidence would bring staunch and charming opposition. Instead, he nodded at Remy's redirect. "Very well. You'll have another several weeks here, but then, I'm afraid, we'll be sending you to Ireland for a time."

"Ain't been there in awhile. Should be fun." Several weeks, was it? He'd make the most of them.

"Yes, well, I don't doubt that you can find a way to make most situations enjoyable, Gambit." Gambit could hear the amused affection and approval charging the Professor's voice. "But, we'll leave the details for later. I have one more person I need to speak with to arrange a meeting. Have you seen, Rogue, by chance?"

"Sure, Professor. She outside, at the cookout."

"Ah, perfect. " When the professor started for the door, Remy moved in front to get it for him.

"I was jus' 'bout to go find her myself, Professor. Why don' I show you where she is." And find out what the Professor wanted with the girl too. His short-lived pity party was off the calendar. If he only had a handful of weeks, he was going to make them count and the Wolverine could sit on his own damn claws and spin.

**O**utside, Remy homed in on Rogue right away. She was with Tweeldee and Tweedledum, o'course. Not that he didn't appreciate their refusal to bow to the masses where the distrust of Rogue was concerned, but damn if he didn't wish it was Colossus or Kitty she was currently laughing at. And she was. Laughing, that is.

"Where y'at, _belle fille_?" Called well before he and the professor were close enough that he wouldn't have had to yell.

Her gaze came up, her smile seeming to brighten as it met his before skimming over Professor X. Remy was already well used to the way she drew up the shadows and blotted out whatever was going on in the quick-fire mind of hers. Her bookends also looked up and, he was pleased to note, looked at him with a hint of trepidation. Remy'd never outed them to Rogue, didn't see how their accidental insinuations being made known would help her. But damn if he didn't like that the thought that he would scared them. Or maybe it was just his devil-red eyes? Didn't care as long as whatever it was didn't wear off.

"John, Bobby. How are you?" They answered the professor; Remy tuned them out. Tuned back in again when the conversation included Rogue. "Rogue, my dear, I was hoping we could resume our sessions as early as this evening? Provided you do not have plans that I would be interfering with."

"Ah, no, sir. Eight o'clock still a'right, Professor?"

"Perfect. I'll see you in my study. I hope you all enjoy the festivities."

'You ain't stayin'?"

"Unfortunately, my extended trip has left a few matters pending and they need my immediate attention. I will be taking some of the fine food with me to my office. I've heard excellent things about the coleslaw."

For whatever reason, that had Rogue's gold-dust skin pinking as the Professor moved off.

Colossus' shout for Bobby and John saved them all from more than a few seconds of awkwardness. "Come! You must join the game!"

"Yeah, sure!" Bobby shouted back, giving John a nudge when he started to protest. "Rogue? You playing?"

"No." Of course she wasn't. How many of her classmates did they hope to make unconscious at the cookout? If the answer was more than five, then she was sure to be picked swiftly for one of the teams, otherwise she figured it was wise to steer clear of contact sports. Or sports with team members. Tennis was probably a safe bet, had she any idea how to play tennis.

Bobby shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, tucking his hands into his cargo shorts before giving a nod. "We'll find you when it's time to eat, okay?"

Gambit was delighted with the noncommittal sound she made in turn and watched the boys run off. "You like scarin' 'em, don't you?"

Nothing feigned in his wolfish white smile. "Sure do, _petite_, an' it so easy." When she moved off, he moved with her, watching as she picked up supplies and started arranging them on one of the picnic tables. "Why you fixin' up de table, _chere_? This here the definition of casual dinin'." Moving in behind her, his body became a cage: hands rested on the table on either side of her hips and he settled his chin to her shoulder. "Leave the work t'Scott. He like borin' stuff."

"Are you calling me boring, Gambit?" Jean's voice again and this time the smile reached the Cajun's eyes. He tipped his head, leaning it against Rogue's so they looked at Jean in tandem, though their expressions couldn't have been more different.

"Of course not, _jolie fille_. You de one exception in his dull life." Scott was also in hearing range, turning the first batch of burgers and hot dogs, but Remy meant for him to hear, would've raised his voice if Cyclops had been further away.

Jean's laughter was rich and as bright as her shining red hair. "Did you hear that, handsome? Gambit says I'm your excitement."

Scott ignored Remy completely, but smiled down into her alabaster face with its shining smile. "He's not as dumb as everyone says, I guess."

Rogue's snort of laughter was worth the insult. "Oh, you think that funny, _petite_?" This time only loud enough for her to hear, his smoky voice right at her ear, mouth so close it brushed auburn strands when he spoke.

"Sure do, _cher." _

How was he not supposed to nuzzle her-her thick curls a skin-to-skin buffer zone-when she sassed him like that? "Now you in trouble."

"Sure I am. Was there somethin' you wanted, Gambit?"

It wasn't the kind of question he usually got asked with exasperation by females. "Mmhm. There's lots o' things I want, _chere_."

Apparently unimpressed, she slapped down the cup she'd been pouring plastic cutlery into. He knew she wouldn't turn, wouldn't risk her their faces brushing, even though it would have been on him for invading her carefully cultivated personal perimeter.

"What do you want with me?" Rogue saw no reason for him to know that his accented whispers and the heat radiating off of his body affected her like any normal, non-poisonous female. Which is to say, he didn't need to know that she enjoyed the attention and felt the tingle of his flirtation, however truly platonic, straight down to her toes.

He made a sort of tsking sound, his tongue tapping the back of his teeth as he nudged her around until they were face to face. "And I thought you don' wan' no more rumours to start, but dere you go askin' dangerous questions in public."

"Gambit," should have sounded like a reproach, but the laugh at the end ruined the affect.

"Rogue." Hands still on her hips, he did lean back a little. "I jus' want you to come out and play, _petite. C'est tout_."

"I am out." She flung her arms wide, nearly knocking him out in the process. Scott's laughter was duly ignored by them both.

"But you ain't havin' any fun."

"Was until you showed up."

He loved that she had a quick mind with a slow drawl, couldn't help but grin as she won the point. "Come on, _petite bouche_, come swimmin' wid me."

Laughter came as recklessly as the suggestion. "Absolutely not. You got a death wish? Half-fingerless gloves tryin' to shake my hand now you wanna swim? Is one of us gonna be in a dive suit, Gambit?"

Did she ever swim? Or only alone? Such a simple thing not to be able to do. Then, she surprised him: "Try again, Cajun."

"A'right. On one condition. If you say no again, you forfeit all say. Means whatever I suggest after that, you gotta do. No matter what."

"I ain't agreein' to that."

"Sure you are, _chere_."

Slim arms he knew to be well defined and strong crossed. "And why is that?"

That slow, wicked smile said it all. He was going to push her until she caved and it could go one of many ways, but most likely they would all embarrass the hell out of her. He didn't even have to say it. Her capitulation came quickly and grudgingly. "You win! Fine!"

"Naw, _chere_, you gotta say it."

Her jaw worked but eventually she bit it out. "If I say no to your next proposition—which had better be reasonable—I will have to do whatever it is you suggest next. Satisfied?"

"Not by a long shot," rumbled. "Dance wid me."

"There ain't no music!"

"So, we sing. Mary Chapin Carpenter, mebbe?" She'd chosen it for their workout two nights ago. "Mm. Shut up and kiss me."

"No. N-n-no, no, no."

"No, we ain't signin' or no we ain't dancin'? You think about that for a minute. I got time."

Skittering her look away from the red on black eyes, too damn knowing by half, and the smile that lurked near his mouth, ready to break free in triumph, Rogue instead watched the football game Colossus was trying to keep organized. Not that a bunch of mutants, aged six and up, could play a normal game of touch football. Still, the chaos was somehow progressing and a score was being tallied.

"We definitely ain't singin'." A pause and she looked back. "And we ain't dancin'. So, now what?"

"Now nothin'."

Her brow furrowed and she swore if his smiles kept getting wider every time she did so she was going to break her own rules and shove her bare hand into one of those toothy, sexy grins. "But you said—"

"I didn' say I was gonna call in my marker right now, _petite_. 'Sides, if I try to drag you away from de food, what you gonna do? Complain. 'Cause I didn' think to pack any birdseed, Pop chock, and I know how you like t'eat."

Yup. That was her luck. Handsome older man and he comments on her appetite and her tendency to get what some people had started referring to as hangry. "I didn't agree to do whatever whenever you decided—"

"Ah, ah, ah. But you did. Jean, was there any time limit on when I suggested a third activity for us to partake in?"

"There was not." Jean's voice was close and Gambit could hear the smile in it. He didn't look, but watched as Rogue did, obviously only just realizing they'd had some sort of audience for the entire exchange. "Nor any other stipulations on circumstance or activity. I'm afraid you've been had, Rogue, and now Remy's holding all the cards."

"Jus' how I like it. _Merci, jolie fille_." Remy leaned back, letting go of jean-clad hips, all smug masculinity. "Want me t'help you set de table den?"

"I want you to go away before I question why I thought bein' your friend was a sound plan."

Remy's laughter drew attention, but damn if the man didn't always draw attention. "For sure, _petite_, it was. I let you do your work and catch you later, _non_?"

Gambit backed away, not taking his eyes off of her until he was several feet away, laughing all the while. Sure, he hadn't found out what those sessions were with Charles, but he would and that had been a fine way to pass the time. And now she owed him one something to be determined. _Oui_, fine way to pass the time.


	8. Chapter 7: The Hard Questions

**Questions Answered:** Rogue is 17, she'll be turning 18 very soon. Remy is 22. He has just over four years on her. Now, if I were a parent with a 17 year old I'd be all ABSOLUTELY NOT about the age difference. But, their circumstances are different and their lives haven't left either of them at the regular o' level of naivete or maturity. So.  


**Other Things:** I am keeping the glossary separate and it is totally selfish. I don't have a beta so I'm re-reading on my own a lot and I'm updating lots on my weekends, but adding a mini glossary to the bottom of each chapter would be more work than defining the word once and popping it into the glossary. But, mostly, it would cut into my writing time. If it bothers you, maybe you can pull it up in a separate window and just click between? I hope that's okay! And, and maybe you can use it this way for other Romy stories! (Rationalizing, I know.)

**Other Thing #2:** Ack! Thank you all. **LovelySmile**-Unfortunately, this will probably be the last update until next weekend. (I have four ten hour days at work comin' up.) But I'll be back! There will be more drama! And maybe some plot. (I hope I can sort that out while I'm at work this week!) Definitely more Wolverine. I haven't had enough of him in here. But, Remy's going to go away for a bit soon, so, that'll free up some time for Wolverine to get his say in. **Heartbreak Lane**-I would love a fanfiction friend! And I'm absolutely enjoying your story! In fact, if you all are looking for more Romy goodness, pop on over there and read it! (But, no spoilers, I'm still in the early chapters.)

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**Chapter 7:** The Hard Questions

**P**rofessor Xavier's office was somehow always welcoming, despite the fact that it should have intimidated the hell out of her. The tall book shelves, the smell of old leather-and old money-with the heavy desk that bespoke someone important worked here should have added up to a place Anna Marie D'Ancanto had no right being. But, instead, she sank into one of the couches comfortably and sighed as she snugged in. Even though she hated what was about to happen down to the very marrow of her bones, she knew it helped, knew his intentions were golden, and knew that if she were better at handling her mutation then these sessions wouldn't be necessary and Professor X would have several more hours a week to dedicate to more important things than her splintered mind.

The professor didn't see it this way, but he well knew Rogue's take on their sessions together. "Rogue, you're looking lovely today. It's been nearly two weeks since we were last together, have you continued the exercises?"

"Sure have, Professor."

"And are you finding them helpful?"

"I want t'tell you yeah and that I'm doin' just fine, but I don' think so. Some days are better than others, I guess."

"Rogue," he rolled towards her, reaching for her gloved hands, "this is not about what I want to hear, but about how you are progressing. I know it's difficult for you to allow this, to have me in your mind."

"No." She clutched at his hands. "I mean, yeah, I wish you didn't…have to be in my head but it helps. It does. Maybe I'll figure out how to keep them all from talking and takin' over if we keep at it, yeah?" She sighed and a white curl fluttered, she left it so she could leave her hands where they were.

"I think, my dear, that you are harder on yourself than you need be. You have made progress. Let's take a look, shall we?"

**A**fter, always, after, she was drained. Her heart tangled and raw. It's why they'd decided to do the work so late. It was early enough that, on a good day, she could catch a movie with the others or study, but late enough she could retire to her room and stay away from everyone. She had plenty of company in her own head, thanks.

That first night, after the cookout, Remy had been waiting for her. He'd wanted her to watch a movie with him, not his "something" chit, he was saving that. But she'd shook her head and instead he'd walked her back to her room, those damnable eyes of his reading too much as she drug herself up the stairs. Little did she know it wasn't just his gaze, it was his empathy. Little did she know he'd ended up back in Charles' office minutes after she'd shut the door to her room.

"What the hell, Professor? She look like she done watch her best friend and her best boy behind the Quickie-Mart makin' out before killin' her best dog."

"That's a colorful way to put it, Remy." The Professor continued sorting papers on his desk, putting them away or into a basket in some complicated system Remy wasn't privy to and didn't care to understand.

"What de hell happened in here?"

"That's confidential. As you've also been on the receiving end of my confidentiality, I'm sure you can understand why I am not at liberty to tell you more."

Remy leaned over the desk and the Professor's eyes settled on the young man's face. Anguish wasn't something he was used to seeing there. "Professor, she hurts, aches," he slammed a fist into his heart, "I can feel it. She didn't walk in this room with an open wound in her chest but she came out with a shotgun blast right there."

If Rogue had known what Remy could feel from her, or had known what the Professor said to him then, she'd have been furious. It was her damn problem, her damn mind—more or less, and her damn heart. Of course, it was also why it was only a handful of the X-Men who knew Gambit had more punch than his blasting charge. Between the empathy and the way he could manipulate emotion, well, he was perfect for his work, but hard for most people to trust. Unlike Rogue, he had the luxury of keeping some secrets.

What Rogue did know is that every night she'd met with the Professor since then, she'd come into her room to find a care package: drink—water or Deep South sweet tea, some kind of chocolate, and some other little gift. That first time it had been an iPod, shiny and new, but what was on it was the real gift: Music. First song was "Cajun Love Song" by Leon Sullivan. Took her two hours to find out what else he'd put on it. Two nights later she'd gotten chocolate covered peanuts and a daisy chain. It had made her laugh and she'd slept with it close enough to smell while accordions played away her own blues. Friday there had been chocolate covered cherries and a paper crane. They were small things but they made those nights easier, less lonely.

More, he hadn't asked. She couldn't get over that. Two weeks later and he still hadn't asked. And he had that chit and she'd have to answer if he wanted to cash it in, but he never did.

He did disappear some nights and, in turn, Rogue never asked about what he did in the hours after the sun had set and before it rose again. It was fairly obvious where he was and what he was doing. but if he'd been one to brag before, the Cajun was now keeping his conquests under wraps. Not that it meant the students weren't talking.

Sitting down to a late Sunday breakfast, Bobby at her side, Jubilee's voice carried down the table.

"Saw him come in at four a.m. Pretty sure that was a lipstick stain on his shirt."

"I'd put a lipstick stain on his pants." Monet. That was definitely Monet.

"Why ruin a perfectly good pair of pants when you could put it somewhere it'd wash off?" Their laughter was abruptly cut short and Rogue looked up to see just who shut them up.

"Speak of the devil." Bobby's voice was pitched low so only Rogue could here. Sure enough, it was Remy himself in a pair of low slung jeans, a rumpled tank, bare feet, and beard shadowing his jaw. He bee-lined for the coffee as if he wanted to mainline what was in the pot, but settled for a mug, straight black, before ambling in their direction. Kitty just beat him and so they shared the bench across from Rogue and Bobby.

"Rough night, Gambit?" Bobby, unwisely, but in a very polite voice, asked the older man.

"Naw, rough mornin', _cher_, night was great." He smiled lazily and there were sighs, actual girlish sighs, from down the table at the morning after dissipation in his voice.

Kitty bumped his knee with hers and shook her head, apparently unaffected, but then Rogue had noticed they had an easy camaraderie. "4 a.m.? How're you even awake? Or drinking that coffee. One of the teachers made that at, like, seven a.m."

Rogue was the only quiet one, swirling her left over cereal in the milk at the bottom of the bowl. It wasn't like Remy didn't notice. He just grinned at Kitty before aiming those heavy lidded eyes at his never-this-silent Pop Chock. "You have a rough night, too, _petite_? Drink til you think your head gonna pound right off your neck?"

"No, Cajun, that's your bad habit, not mine."

"We could change that."

Jubilee snorted and leaned sideways down the length of the table. "Rogue doesn't drink. Ever. Or party."

Gambit's gaze slid to the girl. She was a little younger than Rogue herself so he tempered his response. "Tough on her bein' smarter than the rest of us. I like a girl who keeps her head on straight an' don't get pressured into nothin' she don't wanna do."

The silence would have stretched if Kitty hadn't leaped into the moment while wary green eyes clashed with red-hot ones. "So, what's everyone's plans for today? I was thinking about the mall."

"Ah, Rogue and I have a date tonight, but the rest of the day is free. Wanna hit the mall?" Bobby tilted his head towards Rogue, his smile sweet and lighting up his whole boyish face.

"Naw, ya'll go ahead. I wanna spend some extra time on combat. Can't seem to get my sweep kick jus' right."

"Gambit?" Kitty nudged him and he looked away from Rogue finally.

"Hm?"

"The mall? Or are you gonna crawl back into bed?"

"Naw, think mebbe Rogue's got the right idea. Been lazy since I been back, could use some extra trainin', me."

"That's just sick. The both of you are sick. Okay, Bobby, be ready in twenty minutes?"

"Sure. I'll justsee if John wants to go too." Sliding out of the table, his breakfast dishes in hand, his blue eyes went from Remy to Rogue. "Seven, right, Rogue?"

"Right, Bobby."

After the others had left, Remy finished his coffee in silence while Rogue rose to rinse her bowl. It wasn't until they were alone in the training room that he called her on it. "A date, _chere_?"

"Yep."

"Dat's all you gon' tell your best friend about it, hm?"

"My best friend, are you, now?"

"Sure I am. Who you spend the most time with? Who you tell all your secrets to?"

Rogue laughed outright which made him smile; even when she was laughing at him Remy couldn't help but smile at the sound. "I do not tell you all my secrets."

"Mebbe you should."

"Do you tell me yours? I'm pretty sure I've never heard you share any details about any date you ever been on, Gambit."

"That's because I ain't never been on one since I known you, _chere_."

They'd stretched while they talked and now she was up, moving into the middle of a mat to work in slow motion through the various forms she'd been taught by Wolverine. Remy joined her. "You were on a date last night."

"That don't count as a date, _petite_."

"Why not?"

Remy looked at her while she looked straight ahead, concentrating on her breathing as she pushed a fist out and moved her body with precision through punches and deflections. "Because I picked up a stranger in a bar, went into an alley, and fucked her. Didn't get her name or her number and hope to _le bon dieu_ I don't ever see her again."

Rogue's arms dropped and she looked at him, dead on, eyes bright. "Why do you do it?"

"Now, _petite_, I know someone's had to have given you the birds and the bees—"

"Don't. Don't you make fun of me 'cause I ain't had sex. Or even anything besides a kiss that put a boy in a coma." His look was stoic, he wasn't going to deny or confirm so she threw up a hand and poked him in the chest with her finger tips. "I know you know. I know they all talk about it. But why d'you do it, when you could have more than that? Someone to hold your hand or to sleep with at night? Why do you just find a random stranger and fuck her and pretend that's all you want."

He hated having her laying it out like that, that as crude as she'd said it the way he lived was far worse. "What make you think I'm pretendin', _chere?"_

"Aren't you?"

Remy didn't answer her, not sure how this conversation, one he'd never wanted to have with her, had come about. "You want t'know, then you answer somethin' for me."

"Fine."

"What d'you do wid de Professor that leaves you lookin' hollow and hurt?"

Rogue sucked in a breath. He'd finally asked and she'd pushed him into it, pushed beyond their adversarial relationship for a real answer that was no real business of hers. A gloved hand ran over the black workout pants covering her hips, they were tight all the way to her ankles just in case she sparred with someone to be sure they wouldn't touch any of her skin.

"I—That's personal."

"So's my sex life."

"I get it. You don't wannaa tell me. You coulda just said."

Gambit snagged her arm as she turned away, twirling her back to him. He shouldn't have followed her here with the hangover and something else making him spoil for a fight, shouldn't have started a conversation about Bingo and her date, but it was done now and they couldn't exactly go back in time and erase it. "I do wanna tell you. Wanna tell you all about everythin', _chere_. But it ain't one way. Friendship, it don't work like dat. You wanna ask de hard questions, you gonna have t'answer some of 'em too."


	9. Chapter 8: None of Your Business

**Update:** I lied. This is indeed an update. I haven't quite fixed the cliff hangeryness of it all with this one. However, I have written another chapter; I'm just not sure I'm happy with it. (I mean, I've sort of been flying through these so I'm trying to slow down and keep the quality up. Who knew writing them would be as addicting as reading them?!)

Thanks again, everyone!

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**Chapter 8:** Checking In

**She** had her date. They held hands. And she had her classes. The professor cancelled their Monday session which left Rogue to work through the exercises on her own, locked in her room. Jean had offered to help on more than one occasion, but Rogue had put the very brilliant doctor off as not wanting one more person in her head than she had already.

Remy wasn't avoiding her, but maybe she was avoiding him. There was definitely a change in their relationship and it was noted. She missed his hands, they'd always been finding an excuse to touch her, settling on her hips, smoothing her curls back, tugging the white-streaked tail when she pulled it up. His hands had been replaced with his gaze, from a distance, and while it was frustrating, it wasn't as satisfying, and she never had the opportunity to verbally spar with the quick-witted Cajun.

Logan was the only one who seemed happy with the turn of events, seen smiling on more than one occasion when the two had come into close proximity and Rogue's sudden need to flee was marked. Except, come the third day, his smile had turned right back into a scowl.

Gambit, he figured there just was no pleasin' some people.

"What the hell did you do, Crawdad?"

Remy looked up from the paper he was reading, the afternoon sun slanting warmly through the library windows. "_Comment les affaires,_ Logan? We barely talked in weeks now. Missed your smilin' face, _mon ami."_

"You come on to her? Push her into somethin'?"

"Not that ol' song and dance, Logan, I thought you'd be more original den dat." The paper was given a shake, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he went back to reading.

"You two ain't talkin'."

"Isn't that what you wanted, Wolverine? Seems you should be happy 'bout it." Red on black eyes lifted, moving over the rough featured face, the brawler's body strung taut with tension. "Trouble is she ain't any more happy is she, _ami_? An' you don' like t'see her like dis, no?"

Logan worked hard to hear mockery in the Cajun's voice, but couldn't. "She's my responsibility. I brought her here. Now you tell me what the hell you did to her."

"I don't owe you no explanation, _cher_, you want one go talk to your _responsibility. _I'm readin', me, betterin' m'self."

Logan wanted to jam him through with a couple of steel blades that just happened to reside under his skin, but he didn't. He'd avoided talking to Rogue about the entire Cajun Problem and maybe it was time he confronted her. Going on dates with that Bobby kid, letting this one practically feel her up in public. Damn it, the wildcat was on a tear and he should've stepped in weeks ago.

"You better hope she doesn't tell me anything that'll make me want to hurt you, bub."

"You mean more than you a'ready do?"

LeBeau's indifference lingered, as irritating as a piece of food caught between his teeth. Logan wanted to get to shake it off but he wasn't even sure why the Cajun's low words and less than incendiary reactions were bothering him. So he sought out Rogue, waited for her to come out of some class Scott was teaching that, as a teacher himself (apparently), he probably ought to know the name of, or at least the topic. "Hey, kid."

"Hey, Logan." She smiled at him as if everything was fine. Sure, okay, she was always glad to see him.

"Wanna get lunch?" Quick and to the point. Knew the mansion was no place for the questions he wanted to ask.

"Uh, yeah. Barbecues in the kitchen? I made the slaw last night so it's pretty good and there's plenty of leftovers."

"Nope. Thought we'd go out. Sit down. Order."

If she thought it was weird that he'd stalked her after class and was taking her off the grounds, she wasn't saying They'd had very little time alone together in the last month, since he'd returned from his uninformative jaunt to Alkali Lake. He'd told her that much, that he hadn't found what he was looking for, but beyond that and a lot of scowling since Remy'd come to town, they hadn't done more than exchange a handful of sentences between Danger Room sessions or while sparring. "Let me grab my jacket and put my books away."

"Meet you out front, kid."

Rogue pulled a leather bomber jacket on over her long-sleeved shirt. Didn't matter that it was summer, she had to keep covered up, and the leather was for the bike. Safety first. She also swapped out her ballet slippers for a pair of boots to protect her feet, things Logan had drilled into her about riding with him. It was too nice a day for the truck. Not wasting any more time, she zipped up on the fly, stopping by the front closet where she kept an extra helmet and tried to grab it while extracting her hair from the neck of her jacket. A deep, southern voice and a pair of strong masculine hands intervened. "I got this, _petite_, you jus' makin' a mess."

Her own hands fell to her sides, having had no success with hair or helmet, and fidgeted over the dark green jeans she was wearing while Gambit worked. Much more carefully than Rogue would have managed, he disengaged the heavy mass, gloved fingertips sweeping along the nape of her neck to make sure no strands were still held captive.

"Th-" She coughed, cleared the catch in her throat. "Thanks, sugar."

Behind her, Remy arched a brow. She'd never called him anything nicer than Gambit before and quite a lot besides that was pure venom. "Anytime, _petite_." Missing her, he couldn't quite step away and give the space she seemed to want. "Goin' out again?"

"Yeah," she turned, chewing on the left side of her lip, something he'd never seen her do. "Logan's takin' me t'lunch.""

His lips, always so mobile, went wry. "Order somethin' expensive, yeah?"

Her laughter was a thing he'd known he missed, but not quite how severely until the husky sound was _right there_. "Sure thing." She reached in the closet for the helmet; he turned to go, hands dipping into pockets before her voice, whisper soft, arrested him."Gambit?"

When she didn't speak even after he'd turned back to her, the lanky Louisianan raised a single brow. "Rogue? Did you wan' somethin'?

"Naw, jus'" she pointed to her hair, then touched it, "you know, thanks for the…right. Bye."

_That was just stellar. Really. Idiot._ Shoving the discomfort away as well as feelings that might have edged toward guilt and regret, Rogue tried to be in the moment. She was out with Logan. They were having dinner. Wolverine was all hers for a couple of hours and she planned to enjoy it.

* * *

_**"You** want to know what?"_ Her jaw had unhinged and fallen to the table. It was probably gonna roll right off it and she'd have to pick out lint and food debris when she brought it to Jean to reattach.

Logan licked his lips. "Did Remy try…Did you and that Cajun coonass try to…Did he pressure you to have sex? Is that why you aren't talking to him anymore?"

"Holy shit, Logan."

He was kind of expecting more than that as "Holy Shit" was hard to interpret as either a _yes, kick his ass, please_, or _no, I just realized he's a dumb ass and don't want to talk to him anymore, but go ahead and kick his ass if you want_ –which were the only two responses he'd contemplated.

"Shit. Shit. Holy shit."

The additional shits actually made deciphering the meaning more difficult, but he was beginning to think he should break the thief's fingers on principle. Look at the conversation he was forcing them to have and how he'd apparently broken Rogue's ability to speak; one of Logan's favorite things about her was her tough mouth.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Not that it's any of your business, though I expect you'll try to kill him if I don't answer, but no. We ain't like that." Her eyes burned and she could feel her cheeks warming, the embarrassment made visible as embarrassing as the conversation itself. "I'd kill anyone that tried. Even if it was what I wanted, I'd kill 'em and so they'd have to be suicidal to even suggest it."

Wolverine knew this was not a conversation he should be having and yet, who else was there to do it? "Rogue, that isn't exactly true."

"Um, despite my dearth of experience, pretty sure sex involves touchin', Logan."

"Kid, there are ways…There are things you could do that…"

"Are you 'bout to tell me how to give a hand job with gloves on?"

Did he say he liked that mouth of hers? His own went dry and he grabbed his beer, downing it. "There's not just that, kid. Your partner could also wear protection, gloves," _Jesus Christ_, "and…" he gestured to her with a hand, didn't realize exactly _how _he was gesturing until her all ready pink face hit habanero hot. "I'm just sayin', Rogue, you're a beautiful, sensual," _fuck, stop talking._ "It wouldn't be crazy to think men want you…Gumbo and IceyHot are just the first three kids who might find you…you know."

"Sexy enough to risk death by drainin' to get their latex covered hands on my vagina?" He was so uncomfortable and so sort of adorable trying to give her the Rogue-ified version of the safe-sex talk. But it also tweaked her temper. Here she was almost 18 years old and it seemed the indignities brought on by her mutation were multiplying. "What's your take on fellatio with flavored condoms, since we're on the topic? Got a recommended flavor or brand?"

He deserved that. Voice hoarse, like he'd spent a year in the desert without water, the Wolverine backed off: "I get it. You're a smart, creative girl who can kick anyone's ass who gives her any attention she doesn't want. We're done here, baby."

* * *

** The** real horror of it was that the conversation was on repeat later that night when she met with the professor. While Rogue felt she'd acquitted herself admirably on the first go around, by the second she was duly mortified by every third word that had come out of her mouth at the restaurant. And poor Wolverine! He'd been lookin' out for her, as usual, and she'd slapped him back and nearly made him swallow his tongue. She was a bitch. An ungrateful, horrible bitch.

Then there was the Professor—she couldn't even breathe thinking about that scene replaying in her head, her own internal Wolverine as embarrassed as the flesh and blood one had been, while Charles rooted around in there. He'd said nothing, but she knew, she _knew_ that he knew. Not a single one of the people in her brain could shut up about it.

Actually moaning to herself, she drug in her bedroom door and came to a dead stop. There on the bed was a giant Pepsi, chocolate covered pomegranates, and a half of a cheap heart necklace that, on closer inspection, read, "Be-" and underneath that, "Fri-".

That ungrateful part was more accurate than ever. He'd still taken care of her, even with her ignoring him, even with Logan no doubt trying to run him off every time he had the chance.

Friendship didn't work like that. It might have been awhile since she'd really been anyone's friend, but she knew that it wasn't supposed to be just one person making every effort, taking care, doing the work. Putting on the necklace, she gave herself a little time to prepare to do yet another thing she was dreading.


	10. Chapter 9: The Hard Truth

I'm so sorry if you are getting multiple alerts. I forget to add a trigger warning about a discussion of an attempted rape. It's not graphic, but it is mentioned and I did not want anyone to be surprised. Also some other somewhat graphic descriptions of other bad things, so please keep that in mind over the next two chapters.

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**Chapter 9:** The Hard Truth (Part 1)

Her white-gloved fist knocked on Remy's door just after ten o'clock. It sounded timid. As if she hadn't fully committed to the action. Pulling in a breath and preparing to knock again, with some authority this time, she fisted her hand just as the door came open. Remy was on the other side, looking annoyed, half-dressed, and on the verge of telling her to fuck off, but he never did. His free hand, the one not braced on the door, pushed through his dark hair as a frown tugged over his red on black eyes. "Rogue?"

It was difficult to sort out where to look. Rogue had been avoiding his gaze for days, but he wasn't wearing a shirt, only a pair of cotton shorts slung low on his hips. So low, in fact, that she could see the wings of a V disappearing into the top of them. She nearly went cross-eyed staring at his nose. "Can I come in?"

Remy darted looks down the hallway in either direction out of sheer habit before stepping aside and gesturing her in. If she'd had on shoes he would've thought this was a goodbye before she bolted as the girl was zipped into a grey hoodie and wearing dark yoga pants while toting a heavy-looking canvas satchel. But on her feet there were only socks, he thought maybe they had tiny alligators on them. "Let me close de windows, petite, and get the air condition' goin'." He'd covered the vents, preferring the balmy air and the rich smell of the night, fresh cut grass and the promise of rain.

"No, leave it." She fidgeted with the army green strap over her shoulder, only taking enough steps inside the room for him to shut the door behind them.

"You plannin' on getting' heatstroke? 'Cause you stay bundled up like that without the air…" his fingers splayed. They, at least, were covered as she had expected with his signature half-ass gloves. He must've been smoking too, the smell lingered in the room and an ashtray sat by the open window. So did a deck of cards. She knew just how fast his hands were from watching him shuffle, deal, and charge decks like that at poker games she didn't join or in the Danger Room. "Unless you ain't stayin'?"

"I'm stayin'. If you'll let me. I keep my windows open too. Never really liked air conditioning."

"Then take off your jacket." When she slanted him a look identical to the one she'd given him that first night when he'd tried to shake her hand, Remy's smile curled slowly over his mouth. "I put on a shirt, long-sleeves, okay?" She stared for another beat, eventually nodding and placing her satchel on the edge of the bed so she cold un-zip the cotton hoodie. Remy found himself watching the metal claws unclasp, practically riveted, and had to tear himself away to snag a worn, long-sleeved tee shirt from a drawer. Once it was on, he sat on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. "What can I do for you tonight?" With the timid knock he'd been expecting another one of the students hoping he'd initiate them, so to speak. Never occurred to him Rogue was on the other side, acting mysterious.

"I'm sorry."

Remy went still, his restless fingers caught in the act of scraping back his too long hair. "What're you sorry for, _chere?_ Showin' up?"

"No. For avoidin' you." She pulled at the bottom of the black tank, looking like a curvy cat burglar now. Except for the socks. She wiggled her toes and the alligators danced.

"Come on, _petite_, sit down. It's alright."

"It ain't and I want to tell you, answer your question. You been taking care of me for weeks and besides it'll matter to you personally sooner or later," with that cryptic answer she climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged and edging the satchel in front of her.

"Remember when I explained, 'bout my mutation?" Remy nodded, taking up the opposite side of the bed and stretching out. An arm was tucked behind his head and his back leaned into the heavy wooden headboard. "I said I take everythin' and I left it at that. Well, I do, I meant it, I wasn't exaggerating. When I touch a human, I take their life force, with a mutant—"

"Their power, I know,_ chere_."

"And with either one I take their memories, their personality, essence, soul—whatever you wanna call it. The powers, they fade, the psyches? Well, now, they stick around." He didn't understand, not yet. "When I go have my sessions with the professor, he spends a lot of time talkin' to my other personalities." He could see she was serious, but he wasn't touching that with a nine-foot pole. The laugh, her laugh, sounded startled and strangled. "I know I sound bat shit crazy, but, then, I am."

He didn't like the edge of hysteria in that laugh of hers. "We gonna start tellin' each other how we crazy—and, _petite_, you ain't the only one with a story—then I think it 'bout time you call me Remy. S'what best friends do."

He winked. She touched a fingertip to the cheap gold medallion resting on her chest. No doubt it had ben twenty-five cents and had come in a plastic bubble from a machine at a gas station. Didn't matter. "Anna Marie. D'Ancanto. My name, most people call me-_called _me, Marie."

Once again, he found himself stretching a hand toward the girl with the white-streaked hair and the deep shadow of the swamp eyes. "We ain't most people, Anna Marie. I'm Remy Etienne LeBeau, at your service, day or night." That sinner's smile flashed. "Especially at night."

This time, she took his hand, their gloves keeping them both safe. Even through the material she could feel his heat, but the hold was brief before he sat back again. She tucked her hand into her lap. "Most of the others, they don't know, exactly, how it works. After Ellis Island—do you know 'bout that?"

His hand gestured, a curling motion indicating the white streak in her hair. "I heard."

"Wolverine was in a coma for days and me? I was cravin' cigars, beer, and a hockey game." Remy laughed, as she'd intended. "It faded and he woke up and everyone figured that was the end of it. Everyone 'cept those who really knew what my mutation does. Logan's still up there and so is everyone else."

"Everyone you ever touch is up there?" He tapped his own head with his fingers.

"Everyone I've touched since the mutation manifested. Logan, Magneto, Colossus—he's good about sharin', in the Danger Room." There was a pause, then "Others" and another pause, brief as a blink. "Piotr, Colossus, you know?" She seemed to veer sharply away from that last category: Others. Remy noticed and he noticed the quick flutter of her caged bird heart. "With him I know how much he misses his sister and the scent of the Russian countryside and a couple of swear words that he gets real upset if I use." There was a laugh in her voice and Remy responded to it instantly, his mouth moving to mirror hers though the darkness creeping at her edges was like a siren wail to him.

Rogue focused on the satchel then, dumping its contents between them. A curious jumble of books spilled out, no two the same. There were some with glitter, one with the Ole Miss Rebel on it—at least two dozen scattered on his bed. "These are theirs. Everyone gets a journal. Almost everyone. "

She snagged a book, the football one that seemed like it was about used up and even had papers spilling out. "The first boy I kissed. I wasn't the first girl he kissed, that was Julie Benton two weeks before he asked me out. His mama likes to watch telenovelas even though she don't understand a lick of Spanish." She picked books up, naming the personality they belonged to then moved on to the next. "My momma's. Daddy's. Logan's." She paused with his, almost cradling it. "He'd've never told me half the things I know if I hadn't stolen 'em." She sat his aside carefully, then the largest of the books was hefted. "Magneto. He had me take an awful lot from him. An awful lot."

Green eyes skittered from the book, over the darker green of his walls. "All week I've been cravin' green tea ice cream. You ever had it?"

"Sure, not my favorite." She seemed hectic, recklessly bouncing between fragments of her story, but he went along, voice as sluggish as the swamp and cool as a breeze through the Cyprus tress.

"I couldn't think of anythin' better all week long. So when Bobby and I went out we stopped and got some." The look on her face wasn't right, her lips twisted in an almost reminiscent smile. "I almost threw it up, that's how much I hated the taste of it. Turns out, I hate green tea ice cream. Don't even like regular ol' green tea. Could be the thought from someone I brushed in a crowd or it could be one of the other students, from the training room. The list of possibilities is pretty long. Bobby had t'remind me that my favorite is pralines and cream. After he'd bought me another cone and I about refused to even try it."

"Oh, _petite."_ He didn't say more; the shake of her head and the hummingbird rapidity with which she was telling her story, the erratic stops and starts, warned him off of interruptions.

"Sometimes I get the smell of burning flesh stuck in my nose and in my throat and I gag. Can't eat for days." Tears welled in her luminous eyes as she looked at him. "I want to hate Magneto for what he did to me, but we starved together in an internment camp when we couldn't do what they asked us to do, have to touch my ribs to feel that I'm not still starving," she did so now and cracked his heart, "lost everyone we ever loved because, what, we were born Jewish? And here I am, different again, mutant, hated for nothin' I chose or can change or should have to. So why not just let them burn? Why not let them suffocate and starve and live in filth and cry themselves to sleep, huh?" She slammed the book shut suddenly, but didn't throw it, set it away as carefully as she had done Logan's. Her eyes weren't quite her own when she looked up at Gambit again. "I hate them, the humans. And I want to watch them as they watch someone they love burn."

He hadn't realized this was where that depth of pain came from. He knew better than to let her see what it did to him, though. "You don't hate anyone, Rogue."

But she did. It was there, just like her ability to change the oil in any car in the garage of the mansion without ever having read a book, taken a class, been taught. "It ain't just that or him. I am a monster because I have monsters inside me.

"When I was hitchhikin' there was a man, there were a few, but this one, he liked his girls a little younger, but I was there. I kept telling him to stop but I was pinned in the truck—I'd gotten in, was my own fault. By the time he got his hands under my shirt I'd stopped telling him not to touch me. He didn't make it any further than that with my body or his own road trip."

"Anna Marie." She couldn't hear the raw sound in his voice, too many other voices clambering for attention. She couldn't stop until he could really see what a monster she was, what terrible secrets she kept locked up inside her mind.

"I hope he never woke up. He deserved it, sadistic bastard. Magneto and Logan usually keep him in check; they don't have no use for him." Different personalities paired up, kept others down. It could easily go the other way. They could pair up, take her down.

"And, it hurts—anyone bother to tell you that? Hurts when I take. For me, it's like I'm drownin', but for them," she shook her head, those damp curls spilling forward and obscuring her face as she tucked her chin, fingers skimming from book to book in front of her, "for them it's like havin' every single droplet of blood ripped from your veins and through your skin. Worst pain most of 'em have ever felt. " The words so hushed now that Remy almost missed them. "So, that's my secret."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter came out suuuuper long. So I broke it up a little for the sake of eyes and brains and stuff. Onward! (I'm posting simultaneously.)


	11. Chapter10: The Hard Truth (Part 2)

Update: Ack! Thanks everyone. Somehow it posted this chapter twice in itself. Which , I have no idea how it happened. Thanks for lettin' me know. It is fixed.

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**Chapter 10:** The Hard Truth (Part 2)

_So, that's my secret._

"I've got…a lot people livin' inside and they ain't all kind; what they know, what they feel I know and I feel too. And sometimes they get tired of just squattin' and want to take a turn at the wheel." She held one of the journals in her hands, turning it over and over, fluttering the pages but not really opening it.

"C'mere, _catin."_ Her gaze shot up and she shook her head. Remy's smile was wry. "I ain't gonna touch, not like that." He shoved the books aside carefully and stretched his hand out for her. "Jus' c'mere."

She weighed her options-take his hand or don't-for a long time, but he was patient and he waited and eventually she placed her fingertips in his. He helped her scramble over the bed then tucked her into his side.

"You will touch me, eventually, or I will you. Bound to happen on accident, on a mission, in training—Then you won't have any choices about what you tell me. About what I know. I shouldn't have pushed about your—" her hand fluttered in the air and he caught it, cutting her off as she stared at their linked fingers.

"Hush, now. I ain't worried about what will or won't happen 'cause I ain't scared of your touch, _petite_." He pressed her hand to his chest, held it against the easy, steady beat of his heart. "The journals, they help at all?"

She leaned away from him just enough to pick up the journal she'd been turning in her hands a moment before. She offered it to him, had to help him get it open, settled in his hand as he wasn't giving up the hold he had on her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. Even jerked her chin at it, "Go on."

_This book belongs to Anna Marie D'Ancanto._

_I was born in Meridian Mississippi._

_I was 16 when my mutation manifested._

_I am a leach and I take life and powers and psyches._

_If you are in my body, I'd like it back. I never meant to hurt you. Probably. Unless maybe you deserved it. I certainly didn't mean to trap any part of you in myself._

Remy stopped reading, set the book on his dresser, and touched her chin with his covered knuckles. "I won't let you forget who you are."

"Remy, eventually I'm gonna take too much, absorb someone stronger than me, or have so much in there one of 'em inside is gonna see their chance and take it."

"It's hard and it's devastatin' and I'm so damn sorry you have to go through that. But you are mebbe the strongest and bravest and best person I ever know." Cupping her cheek, burying his exposed fingers in her thick curls, he kept their gazes locked. "You ever need a bouncer up there, you just let me know."

Rogue buried her laugh in his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist finally. "That's what's happenin' next."

"What? _Chere,_ I cain't here you if you gonna talk to m'shoulder."

She pulled away enough to look into his face again, so close their breath mingled. Dangerously close. "The Professor. He's tried teaching me to make walls. Put some up himself and had me reinforcin' 'em. Tried reasonin' with the other folks jawin' up there, but so far no luck. He thinks I should maybe take from him, that if he were in my head he could show me how or, or do it himself, the walls to keep the worst of them from, from taking over."

"How you feel about dat?" He rubbed circles on the small of her back and drifted fingers through her hair, not moving away from her though there was a great deal of honey warm skin close to his own. Not moving closer, even though there was a great deal of honey warm skin close to his own.

"Not real sure, sugar. I mean, Professor X takin' up residence in your head sound like a lot of fun?"

Remy snorted at the dry tone and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Me an' de Professor don' see eye to eye on a number of the mos' fun things."  
"Exactly. And I get to have precious little of that kind of fun as it is."

Precious little? Did that mean that she'd had some of that kind of fun? Some of that kind of fun with Bobby on their date? His eyes narrowed at her and she sniffled. "What?"

"Did Bobby try anythin' with you?"

Her sudden, belly deep, bawdy laugh took him by complete surprise. She actually braced herself on his shoulders and shook them both she was laughing so hard. Remy found himself laughing with her. "You gon' let me in on the joke, Anna Marie?"

"You'll hate it." She giggled. His viper tongued steel magnolia actually giggled as she tried to swallow her hilarity.

"'fess up, petite. I got you here an' I ain't lettin' you go until you tell me what got you so tickled."

"That's—" she hiccupped a laugh, "that's _exactly_ what Wolverine wanted to know about you!" Rogue busted up again.

Remy was suddenly far less amused. "Wolverine talk to you 'bout me and you…"

"Sure, sugar, you tryin' to have sex with me. I think he was even thinkin' about givin' me a detailed explanation on Rogue-safe sex complete with latex."

Remy was sure she thought that was funny by the way she was grinning at him, all sass and bright eyes from her recent tears. "Was he now?"

"Mmhmm. I asked what his thoughts were on flavored condoms but—"

"Favorable."

"What?" Rogue wiped a different kind of tear from her eye, grin suspended and head tipped as she hadn't quite caught on.

"My thoughts on flavored condoms, flavored oils—they're favorable. Don't wanna know de Wolverine's though." Remy kept a close eye on her as she swallowed thickly and the fingers on his shoulder flexed.

"I, ah, wasn't really askin'," weakly.

"Jus' in case you ever need t'know, _petite."_ There was something in his low voice, in the near-glow of his gaze- she wondered if this was at all how he was when actually trying to seduce someone. Rogue could certainly see how it would work.

"Like I told Logan, only a man with a death wish would try to anything with me."

"_Chere_, I don't_ try_ nothin', I _do_ and I aim to be the best at everythin' I choose t'do."

What could she say to that? When her mouth was dry and he was holding her close even after everything she'd confessed ? Of course, that was just a heartbeat of thought, didn't even count. She did find her voice and, as usual when she felt unsure, it was acerbic. "No doubt you think you are."

And that perhaps serious look melted away, his grin charming and wicked and slick. "Oh, _petite_, you wanna find out for your own self? I wouldn't want you to take my word on nothin'."

Rogue hoped he didn't notice the way her breath jittered before she managed a laugh and a quick smack to his shoulder. "Okay, Cajun, that's enough of that. I'm sufficiently distracted from tellin' you the sordid crazy that's my brain."

"Anna Marie, you ain't crazy," her eyes were wide and close, little chips of amber visible in the green, "you complicated." His smile came with the sunburst of her laughter. Smoothing those thick curls back, holding onto a white strand and twirling it over his fingers, he watched the play of that laugh on her face. "I mean that, though. You holdin' it together and any time you need anything-you come to Remy, yeah?" He'd hold her together for a while, if she needed.

"It don't bother you none? That I…that I can't tell you if the first time I rode a bike was in the park or at the beach because I remember both like they were me? Or that tomorrow I could come out swingin' or end up hittin' on a pretty brunette with a curvy waist 'cause Logan has a thing for 'em?"

"Any time, and, _chere,_ I do mean _anytime_, you get the urge to hit on a curvy brunette, you jus' call me up and I be the best kind'a friend you ain't never had before." Her small fist packed quite a punch, even mostly playfully. He rubbed his arm with a pout before sobering. "_Petite_, jus' 'cause they in your head, don' make 'em you. Jus' 'cause Magneto hates damn near everyone and some...you got some bad people up there, you ain't bad people. You ever forget who you are, I'm'a remind you. Might mebbe take some liberties with how you feel about this Acadian Adonis, but…"

Could it be that easy? She told him the worst of it and he held her in his strong arms and made a vow to help her? Made her laugh and somehow took a little of the weight she'd been hauling alone since she was 16. No wonder people were always tellin' her to make friends.

"Remy?"

"Yeah, _petite_?"

"Maybe, I can just stay here for awhile, if you don't mind."

Remy tipped his head into hers, breathing in the damp scent of her hair, holding her small frame hard against his. "I don' mind a'tall, _chere_. 'fact is, I think you belong right here."

She pressed her cheek against his chest, all but nuzzling into him. "Bet you say that to all the girls."

He did. But this was the first time he'd meant it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, these two chapters were frustrating! We'll get to some more funny and drama, I think, next chapter. Also, thanks for sticking around as I put on paper what was initially meant to just be a romp in my head to pass the time.

Got questions? I'll answer them! In a review or a PM. Otherwise, it has been an exhausting work week and I don't know if I'll get the next chapter up before next Sunday. But I will try!


	12. Chapter 11: Later, Gator

**Author's Note:** Sorry this one took a bit longer. Had to work out some things from the next chapter as ya'll are really gettng this as I write it. But I'm hoping not to drop the ball on any plotty/foreshadowing things. Also, next chapter is nearly done, should be up in just a couple of days.

Also! **New People:** WELCOME! **People who have been with this since the beginning:** THANK YOU! I started to name you all individually here and realized that would take me forevah and the Benadryl is kickin' in. So, I just want you to know you all are lovely, wonderful people and I'm glad you enjoy spending time in my fantasy land too! It's nice to have company!

* * *

**Chapter 11:** Later, Gator

**It** should have been weird. It's what she was expecting. That, as great as Remy had been, come the clear light of day, he'd hesitate over her confession and what it would mean for him eventually, inevitably. But Remy LeBeau, Gambit, Prince of Thieves-whatever name he was going by-was more than what he seemed to most. In fact, the morning after, as Rogue sat with her knee just pressing against Bobby's, a tenuous touch for a tenuous relationship, Remy had swaggered in, nudged his way between them, and looped his arm familiarly over her shoulder before snagging bites of breakfast from her plate.

"Get your own, Cajun."

"Why, _petite_, when yours tastes better?"

And later, when he'd returned her personal journal, having been left behind on his nightstand, he handed it over, pulled a lock of her hair. "Forgot this, _chere_. Now, you gonna try t'beat me in de Danger Room? 'Cause I'm thinkin' we should bet on it."

A day passed and then another and still nothing was different. Or, at least, not bad different or awkward different.

* * *

**Of course, **everything was different. Now, he knew what she was going through, why she was skittish of her skin. It wasn't right, someone as passionate as Anna Marie, wrapped up in fabric and untouchable for the rest of her life. He wouldn't believe that, couldn't believe there wasn't something could be done. Just wasn't sure what that something was yet.

"Just go talk to her." Kitty flopped down beside him on the couch.

"Hm?" Distracted black-jack eyes swung from the window to the brunette beside him.

"You've been staring at Rogue for ten minutes at least. It's getting creepy. So, just go talk to her."

A slow curl of his lips read as wry amusement before thief's fingers tugged a lock of brown hair. "I ain't not talkin' to her, _'tite chatte_."

"Spying on her, then? Her and Bobby?" Kitty arched a brow. She had sardonic down pat.

"Nah, jus' enjoyin' the view even if Princess Elsa does get in de way."

Kitty's laugh was quick and she bumped the Cajun with her shoulder. "Make sure I'm there when you say that to his face." Then, her brown eyes followed Remy's to the window which framed Rogue and Bobby sitting in the grass, apparently drinking in the sunshine and talking between bouts of tentative flirtatious touching via tickling or slaps, the former being initiated by Bobby and the latter by Rogue. "But, really, Gambit, it's creeptastic that you are watching them like a television show."

His rich, low laugh warmed Kitty right down to her toes. "Alright, alright. What you want,_ petite_? For me to go interrupt? I think mebbe Rogue's startin' to get annoyed with that."

"Just startin', bub?" Wolverine's voice rumbled, causing the pair on the couch to look over their shoulders. "Stalking's a crime in the state of New York."

"Yeah, you been picked up for it a few times, _homme_?"

Kitty whipped her head around to hide the smile she was failing to squash.

"Chuck wants t'see you, Gumbo." Wolverine ignored the jibe, crossing arms across his broad chest.

"Ah, thanks for deliverin' the message. Fresh out'a treats, though, want me t'scratch behind your ears?" Wolverine's answering growl had Remy's teeth flashing. Kitty's ducked-head and snorting fake cough encouraged a low chuckle and a hair ruffle from the Cajun.. "_Non?_ Well, don' say I never offered." He was still grinning as he reached the Professor's office and knocked at the jamb of the wide open door.

It still surprised Remy some, the professor's easy smiles and faith, both evident on his face as he looked up from whatever he was working on. "Gambit, thank you for coming."

"Sure thing, Professor. Want I should close the door?"

"Ah, no Storm is actually," the smile appeared again and Remy looked behind him to see what the Professor's eyes were tracking. He found the white-haired weather witch stepping in behind the thief and closing the door as the Professor finished, "sitting in with us. And, please do have a seat."

Xavier wheeled around his desk, positioning himself at a table with a teapot and three cups set out. He poured them each their preference without needing to ask. Once the tea was tasted, Charles began. "I'm afraid, Gambit, that your brief interlude with us is at an end."

"_Ouis?"_

"Beginning tomorrow we'll have need of you in Ireland. Storm will accompany you long enough to retrieve the daughter of a friend; the young lady will be attending the school for a time. While Storm returns her here, you'll be heading to an estate in county Mayo to assist another close friend, Dr. Moira MacTaggert. She is in need of an extra guard and a savvy escort."

Remy'd sipped his tea while the professor explained, couldn't help but notice this wasn't his usual kind of assignment. "An escort?" Setting his cup aside, the lanky mutant leaned forward, forearms to the dark wash jeans hugging his thighs. "Escort where?"

Storm's answered, "From Ireland to a secure location in Scotland. But, you'll be in Ireland as a guard until she's prepared to move on."

"Dr. MacTaggert," Charles picked up, "is a geneticist with a particularly keen interest in mutant genetics. She's used a family estate as a base of operations for quite some time but feels it is now necessary to move to a more secure location; she has worked towards that end for several years and is very nearly ready to transfer the last of her research materials to Muir Island."

"I don' mind the work, Professor, but you sure I'm de man for the job?"

"I am hoping, Remy, that this will be a relaxing assignment. It is one that may call upon your varied skills-Dr. MacTaggert would very much like a consultation on her security at Muir Island-" the Professor's smile was both appreciative and amused which Remy took as compliments both, "but it is not one that should require more than a few months of your time and it does not require that you masquerade as anyone."

They needed a thief to stop potential thieves. Until the doctor's work was moved, it was vulnerable; while it was, perhaps the last time it would ever be quite so vulnerable, it made an enticing target for certain parties. He was no geneticist, but it wasn't lost on Gambit the kind of records and information she must have on the mutant community.

"Furthermore, you will be able and encouraged to stay in contact with the school."

A long silence stretched after that first-ever caveat. Usually, he was deep under cover and was only to contact Storm or the Professor when necessary. Which meant: "With Rogue, you mean?"

Storm knew, though his voice was light, that there was a wall being slammed up behind the words. Her slim, elegant hand settled on his forearm. "Whatever you are thinking, Remy, stop." Only when red on black eyes had settled on her own did Ororo continue. "Rogue has very few confidantes. We think it would be detrimental for her if one of the few she has chosen to trust should simply disappear, and unnecessarily so as this particular assignment does not hold the same risks as your usual ones. And we don't want you to continue to be isolated. Charles only means that this is an opportunity not to stay such for either of you."

Storm could practically see the Cajun's suspicion, as if there were ulterior motives; motives beyond safeguarding his and Rogue's mental health and the friendship he had cultivated that contributed to it. "A'right, den. When we leavin', Ro?"

"Tomorrow," she glanced at the Professor, asking rather than stating.

Xavier nodded. "Yes, tomorrow morning will be soon enough. There is no particular threat to either the student or Dr. MacTaggert. Storm will fill you in on further details once you are under way. Thank you, as always, Gambit."

Dismissed, Remy left to find Rogue.

She was, of course, with Bobby. Although they appeared to be doing homework. And holding hands. His gaze narrowed on the Polo poster boy's bare fingers laced with her gloved ones before smoothing out his expression. "Rogue, near time for our workout. Think we could start early, _petite_?"

Rogue glanced up at the sound of his voice clearing even before he'd spoken. She recognized it. Expected a joke and nudging Bobby away just to tweak Bobby's patience; Remy seemed to want to see the All-American snap. When neither came she suspected a more serious agenda. When she'd come to be capable of parsing Gambit's sentences so easily, she didn't know, but she was sure the Cajun wanted to talk and was equally unwilling to say he wanted to talk. "Sure thing, Gambit. Fifteen minutes? We just got one more question and I gotta change."

"_Mais yeah, petite_." 'Course, whatever he wanted to talk about, however serious or not, he walked away whistling Frosty the Snowman.

But, instead, when she reached her room and stepped inside, Remy was in her window. Well, leaning against it, legs crossed at the ankles, hands braced on the sill. "Breaking and entering?" She sounded far calmer than she should have considering the way the figure, not immediately recognized as more than intruder, had sent adrenaline pumping through her.

"Ah, jus' enterin'. Don' really wanna work out tonight, _petite_."

"Then…"

"Wanted t'talk, yeah? We don' have to stay in your room none. I tried not to look 'round too much."

But the way he said that, overtly innocent, had Rogue's gaze narrowing and skimming her room. "What did you look at?"

Gambit's smile was only mildly distracting. "Okay, Pop Chock, if you insist on stayin' here…" he strolled to her bed and sprawled out on the striped comforter.

He shouldn't have looked good there, but he did. So Rogue swatted his hip. "Scoot over, _Gumbo_," not said without cracking a smile as he sat up and sat back against her headboard, just giving her enough room to edge onto the side, hip to his thigh. "Out with it. Last time you wanted to talk it was to swear you weren't spreadin' rumours about our sex life."

She could have sworn he purred. "Mm. I do like the sound of that,_ chere_. Our—" a gloved hand stopped his words but didn't quite contain the laugh against the leather covered palm. Peeling her hand away but not letting it go, Remy passed his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm leavin' in the mornin', _petite_. Got my new mission."

"Oh."

He searched her face after the single syllable reply. "Now, I know you gonna miss me," watched a smile tug at the edge of her lips, eking out a grudging existence on her too often too serious face, "but I been assured I can keep in touch this go 'round. I was thinkin' we could talk on the computer so you could see my handsome face, _oui?"_

"How long you gonna be gone for?"

"Don't know. Never do. But, they thinkin' it won't be too long and then _I'm_ thinkin' I'm due a real vacation. Maybe take you somewhere sunny where you have to lose a couple layers after you graduate."

Rogue snorted and checked him with her hip. "Death wish. When you gonna get over that, Cajun?"

"When you gonna figure out seein' your skin ain't lethal?"

"Seein' is just a step away from touchin', sugar, and you got a serious problem with 'look, don't touch'."

Rogue's sassiness did not earn her the expected reply from Gambit, no quick smile or innuendo. Instead, he carefully tangled their fingers together. "I meant it, you know."

"Meant what?" He looked up, then reached out and traced the small heart hidden beneath her shirt. How he knew it was on the long chain she kept tucked in her clothes, Rogue had no idea. "Me too, Remy."


	13. Chapter 12: The X-Gene

**Notes:** Hello to everyone who is new to the story! And yay for all of you sticking with me! Upcoming-I am not a scientist or a geneticist, so if any of y'all are, please try and excuse egregious errors in logic. Thank you, than you, thank you for the continuing reviews, the favorites, and the follows! Don't worry, through the magic of technology there will not be a lack ROMY-centered interaction. (Because that's what I'm all about.)

Otherwise, my dog is a very sick pup so it might be another week before the next update. He has an autoimmune disease and the meds for it have been taking a pretty rough toll. A draft is written, so if a reread tells me it is better than I currently think, you might get it sooner rather than later. Read on!

* * *

**Chapter 12:** The X-Gene

"The X-gene isn't new," the rich, round feminine tones had hints of Scotland, not Ireland, a brogue that expanded along with the hand gestures as the speaker grew more passionate. "Examining historical texts should lead anyone to the conclusion that it has been switching on for centuries. Do we really believe anyone mistook a manatee for a mermaid? Some sea monster, surely, but a mermaid? And what of sirens? And the gods themselves? Was Aphrodite the Goddess of Love or a woman with a mutation that affected sexuality or pheromones? Zeus's lightning is no stretch of the imagination, not when one knows Storm. That aside, however," a hand waved, brushing the tangent away, "the real questions concern why it has become so prevalent to have a switched on X-gene and what other factors account for such wide variations in mutations. What combinations of dominant and recessive genes create wings over a healing factor? Does the body chemistry of the mother affect how a mutation manifests or if the X-gene is turned on at all? By studying mutants and their offspring over generations we'll have a far better understanding of mutant genetics. And, in understanding that, we might be able to turn off a mutation altogether through gene therapy or even switch off only portions of a given mutation."

"Turn it off, like a cure?"

"I don't think of it like that." Doctor Moira MacTaggert shook her head, quick and vehement negation of the idea of a cure. "Mutation isn't disease. Although, yes, for some, it would no doubt seem like a cure. For those that can't gain control of their mutation, for instance."

"An' who decides who gets de treatment? A parent when they find out their kid got the X-gene? The government?"

"Gambit," she took a deep breath, her slim body practically vibrating with it. She was a small package, Gambit thought, for such massive passion and intellect to be housed in. "It's complicated. I know the implications of my work can be…concerning and will perhaps create difficult ethical situations we'll have to learn to navigate humanely, but there's a great deal to be gained-even from the less savory applications such as apprehension and containment of mutant criminals."

"Why not let other mutants handle that?"

"Because they aren't a mutant problem. They're a human one. All mutants are human and all criminals, mutant or not, are a problem for all of society to deal with." Slender hands, devoid of jewelry, came together. Elegant fingers formed a steeple as if providing a focal point for her next statements. "Ideally mutants would be openly integrated in society; if their mutations aided them in their work so much the better. However, even then, containing a Class Five mutant-Well, consider: How would you stop, let alone contain over a long period, a Class Five mutant bent on destruction? Is there, at present, an option besides euthanizing the mutant in question? And, let us keep in mind, that option may only be exercised if one is able to take out such a power." She barely gave him time to consider the question before elaborating. "Furthermore, what if that mutant is a child, or even an adult, not so much bent on destruction but rather incapable of containing his abilities? What if we could find a temporary restraint that would allow an individual to slowly learn to control her abilities, in increments, without endangering others, with the ultimate goal of weaning her off any restraint at all? And, then, of course-" She stopped midsentence, her smile suddenly apologetic. "I'm sorry—you literally just walked in the door and I've found my way onto my soapbox."

"_Non, chere._ It's interestin'. An' I got the feeling if you were in charge dat's how you'd run things. But, Doc, you ain't the government in the United States or Russia or Bolivia. You ain't the U.N. Council on Mutant Affairs. You ain't the popular opinion held by the rest of the humans out there.

Moira sighed, rumpling blonde curls and wearing a disgruntled expression. "I know. Which is why were moving all of my research to Muir Island and, frankly, why Charles recommended you for this undertaking.

"Oh, yeah? He tell you 'bout my mutation?"

Moira's laugh was clear, like the breeze-whipped bell of a well-made wind chime. "Of course not. He did tell me that you are an accomplished thief who could help trouble shoot weak spots in our security." Remy could see something mischievous in her smile. "And that your mutation would prove invaluable on the road, though he declined to explain what it was or why.

Remy's own chuckle was low and smoky. "I'm just invaluable, me, with this charmin' personality."

"He also said to watch you around my female staff."

"Only if dat's what you're into, _chere_."

* * *

"As soon as you walked in the door?"

Remy was grinning at Rogue over their 3,000 mile separation. "She's smart, _petite_. I think you'd like her." The Cajun twisted onto his side, scooting the laptop back a little. He'd already given Rogue a virtual tour of his plush accommodations.

Cassidy Keep was a damn castle. He'd felt his thief's heart give a pang of longing when he'd first rode up on the motorcycle Sean had lent him for the drive from Dublin to County Mayo. Turned out the whole Ireland to-do was a family affair as Storm picked up Sean's daughter while Gambit was dispatched to care for his beloved partner, the brilliant and verbose Doctor MacTaggert. Sure enough he liked all three of the Cassidy-MacTaggerts, but his fingers itched still to pick locks and pockets, eager to hold the kind of heirlooms hidden in state of the art safes behind centuries old oil paintings. Ah, to be here on less legitimate business would be a dream.

"Sugar, if she could cure me, I'd marry her."

"You don't need cured, Anna Marie, you ain't sick."

Remy's tone arrested her. She'd been moving around her room, settling in for the night. While at Castle Cassidy the time was two a.m., back in New York it was only just nine. She'd been gathering up homework to take, along with Remy, to the comforts of her bed when his sharp tone stopped her cold. It was so un-Remy-like. "It ain't like yours."

"Or maybe it is, _chere_. The Doctor, she's been talking a lot since I got here and I been listenin'. Maybe you just ain't found the right way to control your mutation."

"Or maybe I cain't. Scott never has figured it out. Take away his visor and the man is a menace. And he's hardly the only one. Wolverine can retract his claws, but he never stops all the other stuff." Hugging her books tight to her chest, Rogue shook her head, thick curls swinging over her shoulders. "I want to believe there's a way-"

"Then stop soundin' so damn sorry for yourself, Rogue, and start tryin' somethin', anythin'."

Rogue carried those words over the rest of the argument that followed after. Is that what she was doing? All she and the professor ever had time to work on was keeping her sane, had she given up on figuring out how to control her venomous skin? Hell, had she ever really tried or was she so damn afraid that it wouldn't work that she'd never given a real go at it?

It took her most of the day to work up the courage to find Jean. Bobby kept giving her strange looks and John had flat out asked what had crawled up her ass, but she wasn't ready to share this with them. Besides, what was _this _besides some questions?

She found Jean in medical, the slim redhead filling out paper work and looking like she should be the poster girl for a posh medical school. Jean wore soft linen pants in rose, a green silk shirt that buttoned to her neck but left her milk-white arms bare. Gold glinted at her ears and wrists, no doubt made to match the fine chain hanging around the column of her neck.

It had Rogue looking down at herself, bright red gloves climbing halfway to her elbows, a tee-shirt for Joan Jett and the Blackhearts she'd lifted from a thrift store when she'd been on the road with Logan, tights under jean shorts, and black boots made for motorcycles and kickin' ass. She didn't have to look to know her skunk-striped hair was curling extra wildly in the humidity of the New York summer. She huffed a sigh. Should maybe have put in a little more effort if for nothing else than a boost to her confidence before hunting up the ever elegant doctor.

Apparently, the huff was enough to bring eyes a far softer green than her own up from their work. A smile immediately bloomed on Jean's face. "Rogue. How are you?" The smile was tempered with just a hint of concern. "Are you feeling well?"

Rogue considered abandoning the idea. Saying she had a headache and couldn't find any Tylenol. 'Course, a Rogue headache put people on yellow alert in case it was a renegade personality making a move on the controls. "I'm fine, Dr. Grey," she winced, mentally rolled her eyes, "Jean. Um. I had some questions but they can wait. You look busy and I'm not important, well, they're not. So, never mind."

"Rogue, please, stay. You aren't interrupting and you, and your questions, are very important to me." Jean's voice was soft, the kind of soft that Rogue wasn't sure whether to trust and sink right into or back away from slowly because usually that sort of kind was an act. "Please? I'd really love to help you, with anything. If it's about boys or sex then I—"

"No. God. Is everyone in this mansion gonna try and give me the talk?" She mumbled it to herself while Jean's pale cheeks went pink. "It's about my mutation." Finally, Rogue came all the way in and sat across from Jean on a metal stool. Ankles were hooked on the rails and her red-gloved fingers fidgeted with each other. "I was talkin' to—Well I realized that maybe I haven't tried all that hard to, you know, turn it off. Or figure out how it works. Mostly I just try to keep away from people and shut the ones already in my head up. Do you think-is there something I might try that would-is there more that I could be doing? Something more active to figure out if I have an off switch?"


	14. Chapter 13: Midnight Calling

So, from your comments (particularly Heartbreak Lane's-you were so right!) I realized this next "chapter" really should have been added to the last one instead of acting as the beginning of a new chapter. Instead of updating the last chapter and risk some of you missing it, I'm adding this mini chapter here and will get you a full length chapter as soon as I am able.**  
**

Thanks for the wishes for Chaucer, my dog. He is a mutt, part terrier and part cocker spaniel. He's all white. I call him my Luck Dragon.

* * *

**Chapter 13:** Midnight Calling

It took a week for Jean to compile a list of answers. Another three days after that for Rogue to call Remy. It was ten o'clock on a Friday, which meant it was somewhere around three in the morning at Castle Cassidy. She turned on her computer and called, knowing he might not even have the service up. But after only two rings his sleepy face was in view, the red in his eyes burning in all the darkness around him.

"I woke you up."

"Well, ain't dat the truth. What's wrong, _chere_? Is everythin' alright?"

"Nothing urgent. Go back to bed."

"_Non_. You done woke dis Cajun up, may as well tell me why you call." He yawned, stretched in the dim light cast mostly from the computer screen. She noted that he wore his gloves, though not a shirt, as he scratched his chest. "Well?"

"I wanted to apologize." Even with such little light, she noted that he arched a brow. "For callin' you a dirty Swamp Rat with no sense of boundaries or compassion." He was silent. "And for accusin' your mother of having loose morals." Rogue was pretty certain he snorted just then. "Not knowing her, I shouldn't have brought her into the argument. That was petty. And further more, you were right."

"_Pardon moi_?"

"You were right, Cajun, don't be ungracious about it," Mississippi snapped back at him, bringing the warmth and the south in a sentence.

"God, won't she ever shut up, Gambit?" A female's voice came through, from somewhere behind the man taking up most of the screen with his smug face and his sculpted chest. The voice was heavily Irish and heavy with sleep. "I was asleep."

"Ah, you sure were, _petite_." He looked a touch uncomfortable before a gloved hand came up and obscured the screen entirely. He did not, however, turn off the sound so Rogue could hear his whisper, "Look, Brigit,-"

"Belinda."

"Right. Belinda. This here's a good friend and she needs t'talk—"

"So have her call back in the daylight. Is it so much to ask when you've a hot woman in your bed that your wee friend has her tantrums when the grown folk are awake and care?"

"I'm awake, _chere_, and I care. Now, you go on to your own room. You got early duties tomorrow, _non_?"

There was shuffling, feet hitting the floor, muffled curses in an accent so thick Rogue couldn't make out the individual words, though she got the gist. Eventually, Remy came back, still shirtless, now sprawled in his tangled blankets and with a low lamp adding a golden glow over him.

"She lives in the castle—"

"It's called a Keep, _ange_."

"She lives and works in the _castle _and you just threw her out of bed?"

His broad shoulders rolled. "She'll get over it, _petite_. She got what she wanted. I got what I wanted. Now, I get to talk to you. You been avoidin' me for too long."

"I didn't want to apologize to your womanizing ass and encourage you."

"You wound me, Anna Marie. Them other women know what they getting' into. I ain't tellin' 'em we gon' be together forever, _petite_, just that they gonna wish it was." His smile, combined with his sleepy eyes, the rumpled sheets, and his bare chest were a sight to make a woman catch her breath and dare him to prove it.

Even Rogue. Though she just managed not to bite her tongue in two while holding back the words. "And now that we're done with Sexy Gambit is Sexy can we move on to the more important matter of me?"

Gambit laughed and Rogue grinned back instinctively before snuggling into her own comforter. "You are right, _petite,_ you are what's important. You gonna apologize some more?"

"Nope, your _cherie amie_ ruined that for you. I am going to tell you the options Jean presented me with."

"We gonna have t'work on dat accent before I take you home. Tante Mattie'd skin me for not teachin' you better, _chere_."

Rogue yawned, sleepy for the first time in a week, and dismissively flicked gloved fingers at him.

"Bêbê, you need t'take those off. No need to sleep in 'em."

"I know, but we're talkin'-"

"Through a computer. Take 'em off then tell me Jean's options."

It was practically visible, the weight of her exhaustion as she peeled the gloves off then laid them aside before snuggling back into her comforter. The comforter didn't cover her; it was plumped up for extra cushioning effect.

"So, she says controlling it could depend on what triggers it. If it's tied to my autonomic functions—the stuff like breathin' and my heartbeat-control is gonna be real hard to come by, if it's even possible. If it's part of my sympathetic nervous system, my uh—" she flapped her hands, face scrunched while the word eluded her.

"Fight or flight," supplies with an affectionate smile curving masculine lips.

"Right. That. Then biofeedback might work. 'Course, she also said I should try more intense yoga and maybe think about anti-anxiety pills."

"Biofeedback?"

"Yeah, it's this thing where they hook me up to a heart monitor and I use my brain to slow my heart. People use it to beat lie detectors, manage pain, even those crazy Polar Swim things where you jump into a frozen over lake-which is just ridiculous, by the way. And marmosets even do it for marshmallows."

"You sayin' if a monkey can do it, you can too?"

An amused, "Mhmm," came with a downward flutter of lashes she couldn't keep up. "What do you think, Remy? Any of these sound like gold?"

"I think you got your choice to make, but me, I'd take a pass on de pills for now. Try the biofeedback. I'll even send you some marshmallows, _chere_."

"No good, Cajun. I want you to feed 'em to me while fannin' me."

"I think they usually use grapes for dat."

"Don't care. I want marshmallows."

"An' who said you always get what you want?"

"I never get what I want, sugar, that's the point."

There was a long silence after the quick exchange. Well, as quick as a half-asleep mutant girl from Mississippi could manage, anyway. In that silence, Rogue slipped fully to sleep.

"Anna Marie? You awake?" Gambit's voice was kept purposefully low, soft. If she was asleep-and he was hoping she was-he didn't want to wake her. "Me, I'm'a make sure you get what you want." He left their computers linked and fell asleep again to the soft sounds coming from Xavier's in the dark.


	15. Chapter 14: Feedback

**Chapter 14:** Feedback

**Rogue** snarled and ripped off the electrodes monitoring her heart rate. "If this is the only way t'control my damn mutation, I'm screwed!"

Jean held in her sigh. They were on week six and Rogue's outbursts were now familiar to her. Wolverine had started sitting in at week three, when Rogue's discouragement started tilting toward anger. "Marie." His sandpaper voice caused her eyes, startlingly green, to focus on him. Arms crossed at his chest, his hips just barely leaned on a metal stool, Logan was completely unruffled by her temper."This is going to take longer than average since no one knows what your trigger is."

"Or if I have one even. Six weeks. That's twelve sessions and I don't see crap happenin'." Rogue's own chair scraped back sharply, tipping slightly off its legs as she rose forcefully.

"Well, I do." Jean's voice, though even, had a steely resolve underlying it. "I have watched you learn to control your heart rate in stressful situations. Even now, you're angry, but before you ripped off those electrodes no one would have been able to tell from your heart rate. It spiked and then you smoothed it right out. The trouble is, Rogue, to test if it is affecting your mutation you need to allow someone to touch you. Logan has offered—"

"No." She crossed her arms. "Nothin' feels different. It'll just hurt him. I'll _hurt _him."

A low, disapproving growl preceded the man in question as he crossed the room. Heavy hands grabbed Rogue by the shoulders but resisted a very real urge to shake the slim young woman. "Marie, I'll heal. Jean'll monitor every second for both of us. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"I almost killed you last time."

"Last time you were almost dead. This is different, kid."

"I'm not usin' you as an experiment," said whisper quiet.

Logan's stomach knotted. So she did have his dreams. _Those_ dreams. Bending, Logan dropped his cheek on the top of her head and rubbed while reeling her in to a tight hug. "It wouldn't be the same, Rogue." But he could tell, even as her arms curled around him, that it was no good. She knew how he felt about the experiment that had lead to lacing his bones with adamantium, knew the horror of his fractured memories-drowning in liquid metal, doctors around him, a military facility and a voice. Sometimes, he thought that voice was the worst; the jubilation, the smug victory in it as his body kept healing around the metal, over and over, constantly regenerating and stabilizing him even as he begged for it to stop, to die, to be put down. Logan couldn't stand that she had those nightmares, not because they were private, but because the suffocating, drowning terror was now a part of her, as if she too had lived it.

Logan kept his cool until Rogue left medical. Then, he demanded time with Professor X and Storm, Jean and Hank. Big Blue had to teleconference in from DC, but otherwise they collected in the Professor's study. "She's not making any progress. She tabled the idea of the professor going to live in her head, which I think was a damn smart move, but this won't work if she won't let _anyone_ help."

Jean sighed. "She is making progress. But if that progress is affecting her mutation? I have no idea. And if the mutation is activated by the flight or fight response, she'll have to learn to control her anxiety about being touched specifically in order to turn it off. And yet the only test we have for that-" Her frustration was evident as lifted a hand. The entire argument was cyclical and no one was willing to force Rogue. The silence seemed defeated.

"Bring Remy home."

"Storm?" Xavier looked to her, shifting his chair slightly so his focus was solely on the white-haired mutant after her quiet proclamation.

"Remy could convince her. " Ororo looked over each of the X-Men, her friends and allies, and wondered how they didn't see it as clearly. "She's never hurt him or absorbed him, unlike with Logan, so there's no memory or guilt deterrent. Bobby Drake, we know, would volunteer as well but their relationship is fragile. Even if Rogue agreed I don't think it would be good for either of them. Remy, on the other hand, is invested, he understands the risks and the potential benefits; he has been speaking a great deal to Moira and discussing options with you Jean, correct?"

Jean nodded slowly. "It's actually why I proposed biofeedback. Moira and I have been in constant contact since Remy called that first week in Ireland. I even thought of sending Rogue to her. Moira has done considerably more research into the complications of mutant genetics and how they are individually manifested and controlled than myself. If Hank were here I would never have thought of it but…"

"Alas, I am not and Moira and I have worked together throughout the years, often acting as a sounding board for one another. Sending Rogue to her and Gambit is, arguably, the best option."

"Perhaps when Moira is settled into Muir Island-"

"Why wait?" Storm, not usually impatient, interrupted the Professor. "Let's be honest. This is making Rogue's difficulty with her personalities worse, is it not? I've seen a dozen flashes of Wolverine in the last few days, not to mention I heard her cursing in Russian last night. About Putin." Which meant her internal Piotr was having a difficult time contemplating the precarious situation his family was in back home. "And we don't think there is a cause for these sudden outburst beyond her anxiety and her belief that she cannot control the physical aspect of her mutation increasing her belief that she has no control over _any_ aspect of her mutation _or herself._" Ororo leaned forward, elegant hands weaving their own argument in the air as she continued. "This might give her the kind of hope she needs to overcome it. I'm not saying we send her away for good, I'm saying for a few months. As long as Remy is stationed there. If Moira has the time to give her even now, why put it off? Rogue could even act as backup to Remy on the transfer-"

"Whoa." Logan jumped in, obviously displeased with this idea. "She's still a student. She ain't ready-"

"She is," quickly countered by Storm. "You've only to speak to Scott if you don't trust me. He's prepared for Rogue, Bobby, Kitty, and Piotr to join the team as soon as the professor releases them and providing that's what they want. Even John, more tentatively, as his anger issues are of concern to us both."

"You wanna send her to a bunch of strangers with just that Cajun thief-"

"Logan, Remy LeBeau is a good man, a dedicated X-man, and a close friend." Storm had lightning in her eyes, obviously out of patience for whatever it was about the young mutant that Wolverine so detested. "He'll help her. She responds to him and he cares for her. Professor-"

Charles held up a hand, stalling further argument, his expression pensive. "Gambit would have to be consulted, we can't presume he'd volunteer."

"It wouldn't be presuming." Again, Jean's voice cut cleanly through the room. "He's suggested it to Rogue a number of times. I—heard her thinking about it. I've even asked her if he would make her more comfortable. She knows I…well, I picked it up. She's hard to tune out, sometimes." The telepath looked guilty as she confessed, running a hand down her smooth hair in a nervous gesture. "All the different voices. She's constantly trying to contain them; it's a lot of chatter from one person."

"Jean. I understand. So does Rogue." The professor comforted her by being both gentle and matter of fact; Jean had her own struggles with her mutation. "Go on. You believe he would do this for her?"

"I believe he's eager to help and that," she looked at Logan for a moment, something like pity in her eyes, "he could convince her to try."

Logan's teeth bared themselves before he tuned it down to a clench of his jaw. "I'll go with her."

Ororo started to protest but Hank managed to cut her off with a look; she heeded the warning and let the Professor handle it. "I think that's a good idea. Ororo can take you both in the Blackbird as soon as Jean has made the arrangements. From what I understand of Gambit's plan, dispersing several X-Men will add to the confusion about who has the actual materials needing transported. You'll be an excellent decoy. As will Rogue."

Logan didn't like it, but it was the best he was gonna get.

Jean loved it, except for the part where she had to convince Rogue. Or did _she _have to at all?

* * *

**"You** want me to what?" It was nearly August and, despite that, Rogue's windows were open and the air shut off. Upstate New York didn't have anything on a Mississippi summer, anyway. She did have a fan going, the low hum of the rotating blades competing with the early evening sounds of the students outside and those roaming the hallways.

"Come to Ireland. Help me out with the transport in a couple of days. Meet Moira." That part made Remy nervous. He didn't want the doc talking up a cure to Rogue, but what Doctor MacTaggert might be able to offer in helping Rogue understand her mutation was potentially invaluable and so worth the risk. "Stay with me at Muir Island 'til the job is done, _petite_, and work with the doc like you been workin' with Jean."

"There ain't no point, Cajun. If it's here or there, I ain't touchin' Logan to test and see if I'm still a life sucker."

"Hey, why you think I'd want you touchin' de Wolverine a'tall, _chere_?" He looked offended, dramatically so. Rogue rolled her eyes and he knew she was amused. Three months and he was learning better how to read the inscrutable Southerner. "Now, me, on de other hand…."

"No!"

"Why you de only _femme_ don' wanna get her hands on me, I do not understand, _petite_."

"Oh, right now I'd like to get my hands wrapped around your—"

"Anna Marie. Dis ain't no time for foreplay."

"Neck! Your neck you infuriatin', swamp slime."

His chuckle was purely delighted. "Swamp slime? I'm swamp slime, now?"

"Yes, the muck you have to wash off a pirogue is better'n you. You talked to Jean. You planned this out."

"I ain't hidin' that, _petite_, and you know it. Come on, _bêbê_. Ireland's borin' without you."

"Ireland has been nothin' but willing lasses with pretty accents for you so I know you ain't bored."

"Ah, but me, I like a Southern accent better than anythin'."

"Gambit, this ain't funny."

"_Non, chere_," his eyes were bright and burning even through the screen, "it ain't funny that you too scared to risk getting' control. That you don't trust your friends enough to let them help you. That you don't believe I'm capable of makin' decisions for my own self; and you can bet your fine ass I don't think it funny that you don't respect me enough to respect my decisions."

Remy had this way of reminding her he wasn't just a pretty face and charming words. He expected more from her. And he shamed her. "I do respect you. I do trust you. I just-"

"Then let me try an' help, _petite_."

She was going to have to agree. No, it wasn't that playful marker being called in, but she could tell from his tone she didn't have a choice. Not if she didn't want to damage them. It was another one of those hard moments when she had to remember what it had been like before the mutation to be a friend, to be more than alone. Of course, then she'd been a teenaged girl and conversations weren't fraught with sinkholes where you lost your best friend. "And if you cain't stand it you'll tell me? You ain't gonna feel obligated to keep doin' it?"

"Anna Marie, I am a selfish man. If I don' wanna do it, I ain't gonna do it."

He was one of the least selfish people she knew, but still, he wouldn't have any real reason to keep hurting himself when this went wrong. Rogue told herself she wouldn't be crushed when he drew back from her, shut her out as she stole little pieces of him. "Fine. Okay. I'll come to Ireland and drain your memories and take your mutation and practically kill you because I'm your friend and I have to let you make your own stupid decisions. Not unlike the decision to sleep with the dark-eyed chef who is probably gonna castrate you before I get there."

"Ah, _catin_, that's one other thing. I'm gonna need a favor…."

* * *

"He wants you to what?"

"It ain't nothin', Bobby. Jus' pretend to be his on again, off again girlfriend when I get there. A couple of the women there are a little, um, frustrated with him, I guess."

"Rogue, he likes you."

"Not like that he don't." Rogue touched her black-gloved fingertips to Bobby's cheek, glad he hadn't taken his hands from her waist when she'd dropped the bomb. "We're friends. Just friends. Look, if you really don't want me too, I guess, I could tell him no. I mean, it ain't-"

Blue eyes widened slightly and Bobby shook his head. "I'm _not_ telling you what to do." Rogue did not respond well to orders or ultimatums and well he knew it. "It's just-"

"Bobby. Not only can I not do anything with him, we aren't like that. 'Sides, soon as we get to the other location, he's gonna have a whole new crop of females to focus on and I'm sure we'll suddenly be off again."

Rogue smiled as he did, relief flooding through her. She didn't want to hurt Bobby but she couldn't imagine refusing Gambit anything, let alone such a small thing. "Then he's an idiot."

* * *

They left for Ireland on August 1st. Her birthday. There was cake for breakfast and presents to be opened. Bobby got her a ring with a roses etched in the silver, like the ice rose he'd once given her. He told her he'd gotten it made so it was flat, easy to wear under her gloves. She immediately took one off and slid the silver circlet onto her thumb.

There were also new gloves in soft silk, a set in lambskin, a raincoat in green and lined in yellow. "Hey, it's Ireland! She'll need it!" Scott defended his choice but Rogue was actually quite taken with it. Kitty gave her a dress, black leather and strapless. She grinned when Rogue blushed. "You'll need a new wardrobe just as soon as you get control of your mutation. I just thought I'd get you started." Rogue had broken with her self-made rules and grabbed Kitty in a hard hug, mumbling thanks into the other girl's hair before stepping back, cheeks red and eyes skittering everywhere but the friends gathered around her. It wasn't the gift of the dress, but the gift of belief that had moved her.

Finally, Rogue and Storm and Logan left the celebration with fresh baked brown bread from Piotr; he knew she could eat an entire loaf by herself in one sitting. But just as Rogue was getting on the Blackbird, John was there, jogging up the ramp along side her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"With you. They said we could fly with Ororo to and from. She's got another stop to make in Paris and I, for one, have never been to Paris."

Rogue started to turn back to find out who the 'we' was, but then Kitty was passing her, smiling slightly before nodding back down the ramp. Sure enough, Bobby stood at the bottom. When he didn't climb aboard Rogue went back down. "Hey, aren't you comin'?"

"Only if you want. I don't have to. I just thought, you know, it was a few more hours together." He didn't want her to think he was following her because of Gambit, but he also wanted those few hours with her.

"I like the sound of that."

He loved it when she tilted her head up at him and smiled, just like she was now; it made his heart pound and his head feel light. "Good." He surprised her then. As she turned to go back up, Bobby caught her face in his gloved hands and kissed her. It was quick, their lips just brushing. When she pulled away, her breath came out frosted. "I'm not afraid of you, Rogue. Whatever happens, I want to kiss you again."

_Whatever happens._ If she failed, he meant. Rather than think about it, Rogue took his hand and they boarded the Blackbird together. She wasn't going to fail. She couldn't.


	16. Chapter 15: Counterfeit

**Chapter 15: **Counterfeit

**Just** over six hours later they were landing at Cassidy Keep, Bobby's fingers tangled tightly with Rogue's. When the Blackbird set down with only the hint of a bump, the others were quick to unbuckle their safety harnesses and head-out, even Storm and Wolverine. Which left Rogue and Bobby alone. The minute she stepped out of the plane she had a part to play and, besides, Ororo had said they'd only be there for fifteen minutes. They had a meeting in Paris to make, a mission of their own to complete.

Rogue hefted her bag, one army-green duffel for her who-knew-how-long stay abroad. "I should get out there, probably."

"Yeah. Rogue?" Their eyes met before Bobby continued. "Don't forget me, okay? I'll be waiting."

That was such backwards thinking that she laughed. "Forget the only boy brave enough to kiss me? That ain't likely."

Bobby's smile was charming, boyish because he was still little more than a boy. "Let's make sure of that." This time, when he leaned in for the kiss, she knew it was about to happen. This time, they both drew back smiling after the brief touch of lips. "I'm really going to miss that." He couldn't help himself, went in again to kiss her smiling lips like she were any other girl he might be holding hands with on a super secret military grade jet owned by a school for gifted children.

The kiss was different from the moment their lips touched, Bobby's arm snaking around her waist and Rogue pressing in as she went up on her toes. His tongue traced her lower lip, her mouth opened, and in the heady rush Rogue got from him and the dizzying thrill of the kiss on her own end, she didn't realize what was happening. It was Bobby who had to shove her away. And though he turned quickly, not wanting her to see the way the black veins had started snaking along his skin, she saw them as they receded down his neck.

"Oh my God. Bobby. I'm so sorry."

One gloved hand waved dismissively. "It's okay. My fault."

A quick, painfully bright laugh answered. "Sure. You kiss you're all too willing girlfriend and she sucks the life out of you and it's your fault."

When the young man snapped around, intending to catch her, to fix the sharp pain in her voice somehow, it was too late. Rogue was gone.

The moment she left the Blackbird and caught sight of Remy, she dropped her bag and raced for him. It wasn't part of an act, not because she was supposed to be soothing hurt female feelings by acting as if she were the reason he couldn't commit beyond a night, but rather because she'd missed him so keenly. If he didn't have quick reflexes, they'd have ended up a heap on the grass. Instead, she had her face buried in his neck, the collar of the duster he wore against the chilly Irish summer acting as barrier.

The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on their audience, but neither of them were thinking about who was watching. Remy had seen deep shadows in her eyes just before the power of that small body made contact. "Hey, _chere_, you okay?" Though he whispered close to her ear, his sharp eyes caught sight of Bobby just making an appearance at the mouth of the jet's bay door before disappearing inside again.

Rogue was steadied by the weight of his arms, the dark spice scent that was now familiarly Remy, and the caress of a hand down her curls. Leaning back, pressing into the palm cradling her cheek, the smile came without effort. "Am now. Damn it, Cajun, I missed you."

"'Course you did, _ma belle fille_." Wicked went his grin even though he wouldn't pay counterfeit coins for her story. "Come on, then, let's introduce you to the Doc and get you inside out of the cold, _oui_?"

Rogue settled under his arm willingly. She _was _cold. The natives might be wearing shirtsleeves and shorts, but the pair of Southerners had goosebumps. "_Mais yeah_, sugar."

His groan said her accent was no better than the last time she'd sassed him in French. "Biofeedback and French lessons, dat's what's on tap for you, _petite bouche_."

Rogue didn't answer verbally, instead choosing a hip check as they reached Moira and Logan. The Wolverine's arms crossed at their approach, his golden brown eyes zeroing in on the Cajun with hostile intent. As counterpoint, the lovely doctor smiled warmly. "Rogue. It's so good to finally meet you. Remy speaks of little else."

Husky, disbelieving laughter was offered along with a gloved hand. "That I find hard to believe. But it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. And I'd just like to thank you right now for the time you're givin' up to help me. Even if it doesn't work, I appreciate it." Logan rumbled disapprovingly at that.

"We're all going to work very hard to ensure that it does help, Rogue." Moira squeezed the hand in hers before releasing it. "Now, I've been warned off of trying to talk over long with you this evening. Your Gambit knows how quickly I can take over. I'll leave him to showing you around." With a co-conspirator's look at the man in question, the doctor turned; she headed away from Keep towards one of the other stone buildings in the distance. Logan lingered a moment, eyeing the Cajun distrustfully, before following the doctor.

When Rogue turned on Remy, he held up his hands. "I done told you how my first meetin' went, _chere_, and thought I'd give you a night to settle in." Putting a hand at her waist, gentle pressure was applied until she turned and fell into step beside him.

Gambit didn't really bother with a tour, guiding Rogue up the stairs as green eyes widened over the interior. "My God, Remy. It really is a castle."

"So this impresses the un-impressible Rogue?"

Her fist found a kidney."Shut up, Gambit. When we go to the next place it ain't gonna be so…." A slim hand waved circles in the air to fill in for the words she couldn't find.

"Grandiose? Ancient?"

"Castley."

_Castley. "_I like seein' you surprised, so I ain't tellin'. Come on in, _petite_." Once through the door, Rogue's jaw dropped. "Your room," grandly stated. A four-poster bed stood on a dais in the middle of the floor; there was a balcony off to the left. Someone had already brought up her forgotten duffel and, strangely, there was a dresser lined with pie.

"Um. Pie?"

"_Bonne fête."_ Gambit tugged her over to the pies. "It's a birthday pie celebration. Shepard's Pie for dinner. Rhubarb, 'cause it's your favorite. Then, whiskey pie 'cause it's Irish. And my own favorite, apple, since I planned it. Figured you had cake back at Xavier's or on the Blackbird."

She was impressed again.

So they ate pie while sprawled out on her bed. The talk was easy. Over the last six weeks they'd done nothing but talk. She'd known before now that he had an obsession with apples-apple pie, apple fritter, apple lip gloss, sour apple Jolly Ranchers, even the first bite of a crab apple. He knew house centipedes were her Kryptonite and it didn't matter how useful they were at keeping other unwanted pests away, she would flee from them, screaming and vowing their death. Rogue had made him read her favorite books, _The Fault in Our Stars_ and _Pride and Prejudice. _He'd forced her to stay in one Saturday and, while connected via the magic of the internet, they'd binge-watched his favorite television show,_ FireFly_, and its companion movie, _Serenity_.

Lounging on the bed in Ireland she learned Remy liked her knee socks; alligators that danced when she wiggled her toes or cherries or stripes, didn't matter, he liked that they were not matter of fact. She did not tell him that his black tanks were sexy and she appreciated how often she caught him in them alone; she thought it even as he left on a long sleeved sweater because the castle was drafty. She did confess, over the last bite of rhubarb pie she could stomach, that she was dying to try his gumbo. Rumours were the Cajun could cook.

Feeling overly full on pie—all kinds of pie—Rogue flopped back into a mound of pillows, arms splayed. "I'm never moving again. That was amazing. Best birthday dinner ever."

"Not movin' ever? Not even for presents?"

One eyelid cracked, a half-moon of green iris visible. "Good presents? And presents, plural?" Confirmation was followed by a groan. Now, she had to move. The bed's softness didn't help her resolve as she resumed a seated position. "I have moved. I am upright. That is all you get."

"S'all I need, _chere_." Obviously not incapacitated by over indulging—knowing what his stomach looked like it was doubtful Remy ever over indulged, At least, not on food, —he produced three wrapped packages, all rectangular, and increasing in size from one to the next. The paper itself was yellow and green. Rogue knew she'd never told him those were favorite colors, but still he'd noticed.

"Buttercups."

"What about 'em?"

"Yellow and green." Presents settled on crossed legs, Anna Marie lifted the smallest first. She carefully unwrapped the glossy yellow paper. "It's because of buttercups. Buttercups and dandelions."

"I always liked red, me, but I'm startin' to have a thing for green too. Can see the appeal." Agile fingers spun a white curl, then settled to his own leg as she finished her meticulous unwrapping.

Rogue stared at the small box she'd uncovered. "You got me a deck of cards?"

"Sure, _chere._ You gonna be takin' my mutation on de regular, might as well learn how to use my favorite explosives." Her disappointment did not go unnoticed. He nudged her knee with his own. "Go on. Do the next one."

Determined to appear enthusiastic no matter what was under the striped paper, each package having a different take on her favorite colors, Rogue's face settled in serious lines. Turned out, she didn't have to pretend. In a pretty green and white frame was a picture of the two of them; Rogue was trying to scowl at him, and failing, and Remy's grin was as bright as the glow of his eyes, evident even in the flat medium. "Where did you get this?"

"I ain't tellin'. You duck pictures like the paparazzi's after you, _petite_." She stared so long Remy finally shifted the framed photo from her fingers to the bed. "Okay, last one."

Rogue wrinkled her nose at him, glancing one last time at the picture before focusing on the final gift. Inside the last box was a camera. It was bright red and that made her smile, though her gaze came up with questions and a refusal. "This is too nice; I cain't accept this. The cards and the picture were plenty."

"Nope. You got memories to make and to keep. Picture's worth a thousand words, _non_? And worth even more when you add words to it in your journal." He took the box, opening it for her. He'd added batteries and a memory card before wrapping it which made framing her for a shot as easy as lifting the camera. With the press of a second button the image was mailed to himself. "You said you wanted to travel. Now you are. Gotta make some pictures, _chere_, some good memories."

It was perfect. He was perfect. She wondered that everyone didn't realize, that _he_ didn't realize what a good man he was.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all of the reviews and the scads of follows. Hope you keep enjoying it and writing in about what you think is going to happen. I don't know either, really, so adventure! Though, the next update should be soon as it is mostly written.


	17. Chapter 16: Baseline

**Author's Note:** You all are lovely and wonderful and encouraging! Thank you for all the great things you've been writing!

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**Chapter 16:** Baseline

Course, by breakfast the next day she was thinking he was a lousy, womanizing ass hat of a bayou bad boy. "Remy, I swear, she's gonna poison me."

The hiss at his ear sounded hostile, but he grinned as if she were whispering sweet nothings. Nuzzling into white and cinnamon streaked hair, hand rubbing idly at her jean-covered thigh, Remy murmured back. "Naw, _chere_, she just figurin' out if I'm really so head over heels for ya ain't no one else stand a chance."

"Cause that's believable."

A crooked finger tugged at a pointed chin until their noses practically brushed. "I'd buy it_."_

"Can we please go anywhere else? Ain't no way I'm eatin' this breakfast when she's scowlin' at me. I bet that green spriggy thing is hemlock."

Remy popped the green-spriggy thing in his own mouth, chewing as he rose to pull Rogue's chair out for her like the gentleman he was raised to be. "Parsley, _petite_."

"Or so she wants you to believe," whispered darkly as they exited, Rogue careful not to turn her back on the chef.

Most of the women Remy'd slept with at the castle didn't mind that their encounter with Gambit had been a one-time thing. They knew what they were getting—a good time, a good discrete time—and those were the ones Rogue could pick out the quickest. There was something knowing in their gazes, something familiar in the way they moved around his body, but it was really written in the way they looked at her, not unkindly and not quite jealously.

It was only ten a.m. and they'd run into three woman she would've guessed for his former bed partners, his satisfied and more than willing for another no-strings go partners. The latest was small, smaller even than Anna Marie and had sleek brown hair in a braid and faint lines at her eyes that said she had a good ten years on Remy; the way her blue eyes traveled his lanky form said the age difference hadn't mattered to either of them. She didn't touch him as the three passed each other in a hall, she and Gambit exchanged only a look and a nod, but Rogue_ knew_.

"How big a swathe you cut, Gambit?"

The bite in the drawl was more than fair warning. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Small one, _petite_."

"Different woman every night?" A sidelong look up at him, really only catching the hard line of his jaw.

"_Alohrs pas!_ Not _every _night."

She snorted. "I should have let you deal with your own problem. You make your bed, you gotta lie in it."

"Mm. But it's more fun when I ain't lyin' in bed alone,_ chere_."

"Remy Etienne LeBeau-"

"I love it when you use my full name, _petite._ I been a bad, bad boy." Gold dust cheeks went rose, as intended. Remy gripped her hips and turned her to face him. "Wanna teach me to behave, _chere_?"

Deadly. That's just what she looked as her chin jutted and her full lips opened. Unfortunately, a throat clearing rather near to where they stood interrupted whatever very interesting retort Rogue would have offered. Moira was standing in the doorway they'd been approaching causing Rogue's pretty rose tone to turn a much richer shade of red. Remy didn't even bother to look away from the green-eyed girl who would have leveled him with a thought if only she were able.

She _was_ going to kill him. Maim him. Toss him into a pit with every female who was angry at him and watch them flay him alive. Except, he'd probably charm them into forming a human chain so he could climb out. They'd probably thank him and throw their underthings like he was a damn rock star. The man was impossible.

Which is exactly why Rogue's scowl didn't let up even when they passed into the room beyond Moira. It was modern, sterile, obviously a lab someone had tried to redeem. There was a couch and chairs, a book shelf and art work as if to soften the medical equipment otherwise taking up space.

By mutual and silent agreement the Southerners sat side-by-side on the couch, Remy's arm draped over the back in a proprietary drape that didn't quite touch Rogue's tensed shoulders.

Taking a seat across from them and lifting a file from a side table, Moira began, as Remy had found was her habit_, in medias res. _She didn't appear to believe in small talk. "Rogue, I'd like to start by getting a baseline."

"A baseline?"

"A measure of how you are currently reacting and absorbing." A blonde lock of hair was tucked behind an ear, a simple gold hoop glinting in the light. "We've got a little information from your Danger Room sessions when you've touched one of your comrades, but you rarely do so. Also, those utilizations of your mutant ability are under a very specific set of circumstances." Moira tapped the folder she didn't need to consult; she'd memorized the details before Rogue had ever stepped foot in Ireland. "There are things we don't know for sure. Is there a delay from touch to the time you begin to leach? Is your mutation off when you sleep? Do the circumstances under which your mutation is triggered affect how quickly or intensely it occurs? And that means we need to establish what, in a safe environment with no undue stressors, is the typical time it takes for your mutation to begin working. Among other things."

"That's… a lot."

There was a tug on her curls, a jean clad knee bumping her own. "Not so much, _chere_."

"It really isn't so much," the doctor agreed, "and we have such a unique opportunity as you've never touched, skin to skin, Gambit, correct?"

"Naw, not ever." Deadly fingers fidgeted, tugging at the long sleeves of an ivory sweater until they nearly covered even the tips of the brown suede gloves Rogue had received only yesterday.

"Perfect. I thought we could get started now. The baseline we set with Gambit will help us gauge even minor changes that occur as you undergo therapy. Of course, it'd be best to have several subjects, but I understand your hesitancy. Should your feelings on it shift, you'll inform me?" Moira could see the girl had gone pale, fingers giving increasingly frantic tugs to the sweater. "I've read your file, Rogue, and spoken with your team. You're in good hands." Rising, her crisply ironed pants falling elegantly back into place as if she'd never sat, Moira glanced to Gambit. They all had high expectations of his influence on the young girl. "I've a few things to organize and my assistant will be in shortly."

Almost before the door shut, a hoarse voice shattered the quiet. "Change your mind." Face forward, not looking at the man next to her, Rogue repeated it. "Change your mind. You don't know how bad it is, Remy. Not jus' the pain. You ain't never told me anything about your past or you family and once you do this I'll know everything."

"Is that all you afraid of?"

"You'll get hurt. It always hurts."

"If this is all jus' about me we ain't got nothin' to talk about, Anna Marie."

"I—what if it don't work?" Finally, she twisted, legs bumping his, fingers pulling those sweater sleeves out of shape." What if I really am just the Untouchable Girl? What if—"

"_Arette, toi._ You aren't untouchable." Her fear was like a live thing, though, swarming up her throat and choking him as it did. "And you ain't unlikeable or unloveable, Anna Marie. Even with your mutation, you ain't none of that." Gloved hands gripped gloved hands, a thumb brushing soothingly over knuckles. " You are brave. You the best friend this Cajun got. So you get outta your own head and get in mine for a bit, yeah? See how high I think of you and mebbe you won't worry so much 'bout what you cain't do, no?"

Remy was prepared for his Anna to bolt when the door opened and a young man entered. Wearing scrubs, hair cut short, he looked exactly what one would picture a medical assistant to look like. He introduced himself as Shane and followed that up by asking Rogue to take her shirt off.

"Excuse me?"

Remy thought to maybe let the poor boy suffer under that baleful glare, get a little slashed by her razor tongue, but he took pity as Shane had no idea the kind of vicious predator he'd just provoked or even how he'd made it angry. "Your sweater, Rogue, he cain't hook all that up over your sweater."

For no reason Remy could see, she shot daggers at him before peeling the sweater away and revealing a dark green tank top underneath it. The tech, wearing gloves, carefully hooked her up to the various monitors via electrodes all over Rogue's unusually exposed skin. Remy undid his own shirt, leaving him in one of those black tanks he knew she liked so well, and got plied with the same number of sticky circles connected to wires. "Well, now, this ain't gonna make anyone nervous." Rogue gave his booted foot an affectionate kick. "Be honest now, do I still look sexy, _petite_?"

His face was so serious and those red on black eyes so bright that the left side of her mouth defeated her best intentions to frown. "Yeah, sugar, I can hardly contain myself because you look so fine in the latest medical technology."

Moira's voice came through a speaker, her brogue and no nonsense tone both softened in the crackle of the relay. "We're all set. Shane and I will be monitoring everything from in here. If there's an emergency-"

"Like me blowin' it up?" Muttered. Naturally, Moira picked up the words through the well-wired room.

"If you're concerned about having trouble with Gambit's mutation—"

"I got it, Doc, don' worry 'bout that," Remy interrupted. "But, Rogue, both gloves off." No accidents allowed with her unmarked, sun-starved skin.

"Proceed when ready."

While Rogue abandoned her gloves, Remy did the same, then offered one hand to her. It seemed they would always come back to that moment, that choice: take his hand or don't, trust him or don't.

Very carefully, Rogue placed her fingers over his, his heat warming her immediately. She wasn't going to hold on, that would be too dangerous, but Gambit had no such qualms. He slid his fingers through hers so they held hands, palm to palm, his bare thumb skimming the backs of her bare hand. Fascinated by his wide hands pressed to hers, the contrast in their skin, the sheer novelty of touch, Rogue couldn't look away from the point of contact.

Gambit, all the while, watched the play of emotion on her face; fear and wonder warred. All too soon he felt the sharp tug of her mutation, felt as if he were being siphoned out of pinholes in his skin. Carefully, slowly, hands were unhitched. Moira had given strict orders for Remy to break contact the moment he knew the leaching had begun.

But Rogue flinched at his careful separation and his heart stuttered. "Just what she told us t'do, _petite_, remember? Soon as I realized it was happenin', stop it. I ain't hurt."

Moira's voice covered his own quiet reassurances. "That was excellent. Gambit. Your vitals look good. Do you feel well?"

"Sure thing, Doc. Got to touch my _fille_, no? Who could feel better than me?"

Moira's voice had a smile in it for her next query. "And you, Rogue? How are you feeling?"

_Dizzy._ "My fingers are tinglin'."

"That's the mutation, _chere."_

"It tickles."

Remy's laughter mixed with the doctor's question. "Could you describe to me anything else that you feel you might have absorbed?"

"No."

"Rogue, I need to know in order to understand what your absorption rate is under laboratory conditions."

Moira was startled by the fierceness in the diminutive mutant's look as she found a camera. It felt as if those vibrant eyes were staring right at her. "I'll tell you what I can , when I can, but just 'cause I take his secrets don't mean I'm sharin' 'em."

It was evident there would be no movement on this front today. "I understand. Anything that wouldn't breech Gambit's confidence, however, would be appreciated."

His little pop chock, fiercely protective of a no good thief. Wasn't there anyone she wouldn't challenge over the wrong cause? "What did you get, _catin_?"

"It ain't like that." Of course she answered Remy, the blaze in her eyes quieting as it locked with the midnight and fire of his. "I don't..I'm not…that was so quick. It'll probably come back later, in flashes. Might not even realize it's somethin' of yours."

Everyone absorbed the confession. "Rogue, do you think you'd be able to charge anything?"

"I," she looked down at her fingers, at the buzz under her skin that was Remy, then nodded. "Somethin' small, sure."

"Please do so."

Remy produced a pack of cards and offered her a three of Clubs. "See, petite?"

As if conjuring magic from it, her fingertips barely brushed the card and she focued on transferring that tingle to it. When it glowed she tossed him a smug smile. Gambit simply undid the charge and set the cards aside.

"Very good, Rogue. Now, are we ready to try again? We'll see if the timing remains consistent and, of course, we'll be repeating this at the beginning of every session."

Three more times they held hands for the span of two breaths before he had to pull away. Then, there were more scans. Brain scans for both of them. They were to physically exert themselves then have their heart rates checked, their blood pressure taken. By the end of the day Rogue was grumpy, sweaty, and hungry—"That's the three worst dwarves."

"What you say, Rogue?"

Remy looked over at the mumbling girl, not bothering to hide the slow curve of his lips as she blew a lank curl out of her face only to have it fall right back there again.

"I'm grumpy, sweaty, and hungry. All the sucky dwarves."

"Guess that makes me Sexy."

"And that makes me sick," Wolverine's rough voice preceded him into the room where Rogue was collapsed on the linoleum by a treadmill. "One day of medical tests kick your ass, kid?"

Rogue's gaze narrowed dangerously. "Watch it, bub. I ain't in no mood."

Of course hearing his own kind of threat in her Mississippi drawl made the Wolverine grin. "And that means you need to eat. Come on."

Did everyone know she was a brat when she was hungry? As if sensing her thoughs, Remy's own chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. If Rogue shivered she pretended it was from the sweat rapid cooling her exhausted body. She'd never thought, when Moira suggested they switch into work out gear, that she'd be looking forward to the longest, hottest, most muscle relaxingest soak of her life. Might as well have had a Danger Room session with Logan for as bad as she felt.

Fingers wiggled in front of her eyes. "Come on, killer, you can do it." Taking his hands despite the mocking, Rogue let the Cajun haul her to her feet.

"I'll be lucky if I can chew."

Not that she doubted her abilities of mastication once she'd smelled the Guinness Stew waiting for them in a small living room.

Logan got a sweaty, one armed hug for dealing with dinner-even if the poisoning chef had prepared it-before Rogue flopped onto the couch, snagged a bowl, and dug in without further talking. And, since Rogue wasn't talking, no one did; it made for a very quiet meal.

They had several of those over the next few days. Moira was quite serious about having a complete understanding of both Rogue and Remy's physical and mental condition before she began any type of therapy. Maybe Remy hadn't needed a faux girlfriend. With Moira enlisting Logan for help on finding their physical thresholds, the Prince of Thieves had to be too exhausted for any antics.

Rogue certainly was. In fact, after the fourth day spent touching fingertips and charging cards, running laps and sparring, Rogue was too tired to even be frustrated with the imperceptible forward momentum of Moira's plan. Spent, she leaned on Gambit as they returned to her room and he led her inside. Nearly missed what the Cajun was saying, too, half-asleep on her feet and dazzled by thoughts of a bubble bath.

"Tomorrow, I think, _petite_."

"Wait? Tomorrow? What?"

"We headin' out tomorrow, _catin_. Mebbe be a few days 'fore we can contact anyone outside." Rogue yawned, leaning her soft, sleepy body even harder into his side. His grip tightened.

"Well, everyone wants t'hear from me is here, so shouldn't matter."

"You and Binky have a fight?" That pliant body went tense just before she pulled away from him. He almost regretted saying anything, but then, Remy LeBeau didn't much see the point in regret.

"No."

Ah, so something worse. Remy crossed his arms and leaned against one of the posts of her bed as she sat and started working on the messy knots she'd tied in her shoes. "Broke up?"

"No!" _Maybe._

"He cheat on you?"

"Could you blame him if he had?" Defeated in every way, she used her toes to pry off the still-tied shoes. "I'm'a take a bath. You should get some sleep if we're leavin' tomorra."

"If he did cheat he'd be a damn fool, Anna Marie." Bobby'd said something very similar. How they'd hate to know they agreed. "But, if maybe somethin' happened, some accident and you jus' ignore him, you'd be the fool. Call him." With that, the thief slipped soundlessly out of the room. But, Rogue, she was stubborn and had no intention of calling Bobby, sure she knew exactly what the young man would say and it was nothing she wanted to hear.

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**Author's Note:** Didn't want to move too fast, but the next couple of chapters should have things happening and stuff. Hope you enjoyed it.


	18. Chapter 17: Undercover

Author's Note: Quick clarification to a question asked in a review: No, Bobby did not cheat. Rogue was just being morose, thinking she couldn't blame him since he can't touch her without getting hurt. She's not talking to him because, as you may have noticed, she's an avoider of things she doesn't want to deal with (especially apologies) and she's kinda figuring he's going to end it after a three second caused him uber me know if I can clear anything else up! Otherwise, read on!

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**Chapter 17:** Undercover

**"I** think this was the plan all along," a girlish voice drifted among the chatter in the rec room at Xavier's.

Then, another, "What do you mean?"

Most people were focused on choosing the movie, but Jubilee and Boom Boom had their own agenda, heads bent together as they painted their nails.

"Well, you know, I heard Storm talking to Remy early on and she was all 'go get her Cajun Tiger' and he was all 'we jus' friends', " her rendition of his accent sounded suspiciously like the Swedish Chef ,"wink-wink. Now, they've shipped her off with him and I heard _that_ was all Storm's idea too. Maybe they want to start a breeding program with, like, the most badass mutations."

"Then they oughta put me and the Cajun in a room naked together. We'd make things go boom." Her hand threw a fist-bump kind of explosion. The two girls broke up at that . "Besides, only way Rogue's getting' pregnant is with a turkey baster."

It was only Kitty who saw Bobby walking in as Jubilee dished out her logic. He was holding his phone in his hand and Kitty, like everyone else at Xavier's, knew the habit had only manifested since Rogue had gone to Ireland. She gave Jubilee's floor cushion a shove as she hurried out after him.

"Bobby. Bobby!" She caught up, though he didn't slow his pace. "You know that's not what's going on." Cool blue eyes flickered down to her face. "What happened anyway? I don't understand. You two seemed-On the flight over, I mean…."

"I kissed her."

Kitty froze in her tracks, had to jog a few paces to catch up with his long-legged stride. "And, uh, then…what?"

"I kissed her again. And then the third time….you know, _it _happened."

"Oh, Bobby. Were you…hurt?"

"Not really. I mean," blue eyes collided frostily with brown, "of course it hurts. But, we didn't…we weren't touching that long. She ran off, right to _him_ and she hasn't answered any of my calls or texts or emails."

A hand, soft and warm and surprising, touched his cool one. "She just needs some time. She's not really _with_ Gambit and she's probably just embarrassed and guilty and-"

"And if she'd call I could fix that!" The floor beneath their feet iced, it even splashed the walls around them. "I know _exactly _what I'd say, what I would've said then. It's worth it. She's worth it." He smiled, a little, almost sadly. "I was even..it's dumb..but I'd thought, I was going to tell her it just meant we needed more practice."

"And when she finally calls, you tell her all of that. It'd work on me."

Bobby looked down into Kitty's concerned face, her warm hand still over his despite the ice show he'd put on in his frustration. Rogue was worth it, but sometimes he wished he'd fallen for someone a little easier to handle and it had nothing to do with mutation.

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**"I** got it, Logan! For the nine-hundredth time, I got it." Gloved hands fisted on hips, Rogue glowered up at the Wolverine, the toes of their boots literally touching. Everyone but Gambit had cleared the area. He was lounging against a stall, flipping a card lazily through his fingers while watching the fireworks.

"Look, kid, you ain't takin' a risk like this without being prepared and I gotta know you know exactly what the hell we're doing," growled down at the pain-in-his ass Southerner who'd volunteered to put her damn life on the line.

"I am going to be the decoy. You and Remy are going to be acting as my guards while Moira is carefully hidden with all of the data on her." Each word was annunciated slowly as if for someone she didn't think could quite comprehend, and the smile she wore Remy wouldn't call sweet.

"Still followin'?" Low, rumbling growls answered her. "At a designated spot the lead car, with you in it, will leave our little convoy; you'll grab your bike and double back alone while someone else drives the car. Yet another decoy. You'll meet up with us on the road again exactly 10.2 miles later and we shall all proceed to the private airstrip where Moira and you will get on a cargo plane with the horse and Remy and I will continue on by car.

Your itinerary is known only to you and Gambit, thus keeping it completely safe, while he and I have had something of a security breach with ours." 'Cause that made Wolverine happy to hear again, that she wasn't just playing decoy but bait with a purposefully leaked travel plan. "Ya'll should get to our collective destination tonight sometime while Gambit and I will travel into France for a few days before taking up yet another disguise and doubling back, arriving at Moira's new research facility three days from now." A brow arched over hot green eyes. "Well?"

"You aren't to take any unnecessary risks, Rogue."

"Says the man who don't do nothin' but take unnecessary risks."

"I heal, kid. You don't."

With that went the temper. Now their proximity didn't bristle. "I'm gonna be careful."

"I won't be close enough to heal ya if somethin' goes wrong."

"You cain't be my personal med kit, sugar, healin' me every time something gets fouled up, there every time to save me. I gotta save myself a little too."

Logan ignored the fact that Gambit was watching and wrapped his arms around the slim woman in front of him. He ran his chin over the top of her head, even though it was a blonde wig and not her distinctively striped hair. "Okay, kid." When he finally released her, and despite his capitulation, Wolverine paused by the languid Cajun to warn, "Not one scratch on her, Gumbo."

"I ain't gonna promise you that, _mon ami_, but I do everything I can to keep her safe."

It wasn't enough. It couldn't be. It was all there was.

Only after Logan was gone did Rogue let out a huge breath. "Glad that's over."

"Ah, but, _petite_, it ain't. We goin' over the specs one more time and I'm gonna need you to give me street names and GPS coordinates." Remy smiled slowly at her. Truth be told, he was glad the Wolverine had drilled her on it so many times. For the first time on a job he was nervous and it had everything to do with the green-eyed spitfire who had suggested only last night that she dress as Moira, act as bait, and in general cause the men trying to keep her safe to be disgusted in their agreement that it was the worst idea they'd ever heard. Unfortunately, they'd been out-sassed and Rogue had gotten her way with the unqualified support of the doc. Now, they all had to live with the decision.

It wasn't until the car following them with Logan had broken off that Rogue broke the silence. "For two men who can barely stand each other, ya'll sure have been actin' a lot alike."

"Dat's jus' cruel, _catin."_ Remy slanted Rogue a sidelong look. It was strange, seeing her in the doctor's clothes. Ivory pants and a blue silk shirt, gold dust arms bare but for a bangle. No gloves because it was summer and the doctor wouldn't pull on a pair unless she was working; besides, it meant she was armed, like switching the safety off on a gun. Which was another point. That sleek woman next to him, that could have been her in different life; that could have been Anna Marie, after college and a sorority had shined her up a little. She'd have still had that sass and steel, that was bone deep, and be handy with a rifle but she wouldn't be the kind of girl who could field strip an M4, give a first hand account of the Holocaust, and had a history that included living on the road eating out of trash bins. There wouldn't be a place for him in that kind of life, though.

"Cruel or true? Scott and Storm and the Professor sent me here to help, not jus' see the doctor, but you both actin' like I cain't handle myself."

"That ain't it at all, _petite."_Remy flicked quick glances at her, but he was watching the road and so was she, for signs of trouble.

"No, Swamp Rat? Then what?"

"It's your first assignment, _non_? Sure, you been in de field but not on purpose, not planned. And last time you were—" He didn't have to finish. She'd nearly died. Nearly killed the Wolverine. Hell, nearly killed half of the most important people in the world. "We care, yeah? I don't like the Wolverine, me, but don't matter 'cause we both like you."

"I don't need y'all to protect me all the time. How'm I ever gonna—"

Remy never got to hear her finish that question. Their world exploded in dust and sounds and light. Someone had detonated a roadside bomb and they weren't ten miles from Cassidy Keep.

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**Author's Note: **100 Followers and a swoon in a review? Ya'll are killin' me. In the best way. Thank you, thank you for all of the reviews and the follows and the favorites.** lovely smile**, I hope you are still with me! When I update back-to-back I always think of your early insistence at MORE NOW! :) And you longer chapter lovers, this one was originally over 4,000 words. I decided to break it in two, but update back-to-back so no suspense. Well, except for the time it takes to load.


	19. Chapter 18: On the Road

**Chapter 18: **On the Road

**"H**old on." Remy's tone was grim as he slammed on the breaks, working the wheel to keep the horse trailer at his back from fishtailing wildly and flipping them. Rogue was braced, bare hands on the hard plastic of the dash and the door. It felt like slow motion, the whip and slide, to Kristi Guillroy's rich voice and bright accordion on "Blues À Catin".

The moment they stopped spinning, the horse trailer slamming into an old, low, stone wall, real-time asserted itself. "You okay, p_etite_?"

She'd been bashed into the door, but her seatbelt had worked well. "Fine. You?"

"Bon."

In the back, the horse kicked and made frantic sounds, but the X-Men—and in that moment they were exactly that-were on the defensive as they hurried out of the cab of the truck and onto the narrow road. The smoke cleared, revealing two figures, a man and a woman.

"Burner, Katya."

"Gambit." The man nodded, a smile flashing across his mouth before he spoke again in a thick New Jersey accent. "You do take the strangest jobs."

Rogue looked to Remy, quirking a brow. The minute she spoke or used her powers, they'd know she wasn't the doctor. So, for now, she was stuck with silent communication. Of course, it was going to be kinda tough not to use her mutation when she didn't have her hands covered.

"'Cause he's just a slut, for money or women, doesn't matter." Katya, apparently, was much less friendly with the N'Awlins mutant.

"Don't be bitter, make you age faster,_ oui_?" Undisturbed, Remy casually flipped cards in his nimble fingers. "What's dis all about anyway, Burner? I just takin' a horse to market, me."

Burner's eyes flared and he shook his head. "You're on the real wrong side of this one, man. She does tests on mutants. Experiments."

"My _catin_? Naw. Do you, _chere_? On mutants?" Her inability to answer was not lost on the Cajun. "Maybe you run some tests on this mutant. Mebbe check my stamina, _oui_? An' I can play wit your probes."

Burner was amused, the women in the standoff considerably less so. Katya hissed. "Enough. He's been in her pants and her pockets. Can we just get her?"

"You gonna take _mon belle femme_? I ain't through wid her yet." He still seemed relaxed, as if waiting for more banter from the mismatched pair who'd attacked them, which was why the sudden flare of power in four flying cards was so startling. Katya and Burner scattered while Gambit slid across the car and snatched Rogue around the waist to yank her to cover. Just in time as Burner threw flame from his palms.

"Friends?"

"Eh, sometimes." Gambit shrugged as they crouched behind the rock wall. "Divide and conquer." Without discussion he caught her face in his hand, placing bare fingers against the curve of her jaw. When she started to pull away he snagged her chin, held on til it hurt and the first of the black spread in rays from their point of contact. "Trust me. You gon' need it."

With that, he was up and over the wall, charging and throwing and dodging as he pulled Burner's attention.

Knowing her eyes would be burning red on black, Rogue followed, splitting to the left. She scooped a handful of gravel, charged it on the fly, and flung it at the at the tall blonde. But the Belarusian dissolved and the charges passed through her. "They call me Mist."

And that's when things got ugly. There was the sound of fire, a roar, and small explosions as Remy and Burner faced off. But Rogue couldn't check on her teammate, had to trust he could handle himself because she had her hand full with a woman she really for damn sure couldn't touch. How the hell was she supposed to kick the ass of someone who wasn't solid? Which is why the first hit to her own face was such a surprise, solid and flesh, that it whipped her head back and snapped her teeth together hard. She flipped out of the way, landing poised to fight, and engaged again.

But, it happened again. Then again. Those out of nowhere slams of skin to skin. Mist kept slipping away but Rogue learned from each solidification. Finally, the other mutant came in for a hard punch and landed it, but Rogue had been anticipating this hit. She grabbed the woman's arm in a determined grip and tried, with a ferocity she usually reserved for not using her mutation, to pull another into her. They grappled, landing in the rocks and the dirt, rolling over and over, but Rogue never let go. Not until Mist finally went limp on top of her.

At the sound of footsteps over her shoulder, Rogue dissolved and reassembled herself a few feet away only to find her own panicked gaze focused on Gambit.

"You touched her."

'Not much choice."

"How you holdin' together?"

She dissolved again, her particles losing their bonds, and came back together with a scowl. "Not funny. We gotta get Moira and get out of here."

Gambit was wondering exactly how they were going to do that with Rogue's form destabilizing every few seconds when the sound of a vehicle approaching became the more immediate concern. "Get outta sight."

"Apparently that ain't a problem," muttered, but she dove over the wall, turning to mist for a moment before re-materializing as she tucked and rolled, then flattened in order to stay concealed by the stones. Probably no one would notice if she turned back into mist, right? This was Ireland, after all, a single amorphous cloud of water droplets would blend in with the damp fog.

"Where is she?" A familiar snarl had Rogue standing. Sort of. She started to stand and then sighed as she felt her atoms dissipating.

"She right there," Gambit gestured. And the Cajun wasn't laughing because 'right there' meant a cloud of fog that looked only slightly suspicious.

"What the hell do you mean she's right—"

"He means," through gritted teeth, eyes still shining red, as she bore down and tried to hold herself quite literally together, "right here. We need to go before they come to."

"We do, indeed." This from Moira, climbing down from her hiding spot, a secret panel in the horse trailer. "Unhitch the truck, we'll send someone from the Keep for the horse. Gambit, you two should take the motor…cycle," she stopped, voice weak, as Rogue once again turned to so much vapor. "The truck. You'll have to take the truck. Keep the windows rolled up."

"And what about them?" Spoken almost before she had rematerialized, Rogue gestured at the two prone figures.

"We'll call for pick-up. He out awhile?" Wolverine could smell the fire on the male so there was no need to ask about the female. Rogue had handled her. It would probably be a couple of days before she came around.

Gambit nodded. "Few hours, sure."

Calls were made, the trailer unhitched, and, just as they were about to split again, Moira handed Gambit a small memory stick. "The computer and the stick have to be together to access the files. If something happens to us, we'll destroy the computer. If something happens to you-"

"But your research! A cure!" Rogue shouted, anger settling her solidly in her bones.

"I'll have to duplicate the tests. Start over." Moira smiled, serene despite the attack. "It's still in my head. It'll take longer, yes, but the information won't be with the wrong people." Then, she slid onto the motorcycle behind Logan and the two shot off.

Gambit refused to drive until Rogue was fully materialized in the cab, then he secured everything and they too took off. He didn't tell her, but every time she went cloudy in the seat beside him he held his breath and counted how long it took for him to see the blonde wig, the torn blue silk, her small hands fisted on her thigh.

"We gonna ditch the car soon as we get somewhere we can ditch it, yeah? Keep the wig, _chere_, but you gonna have t'get new clothes. Look like you been attacked." He smirked over at swirling mist that settled into a scowling woman. "How long you think this last, _petite?_" Voice casual, as if he wasn't worried that the frequency and the duration had yet to change at all though the red denoting his own mutation in her system was now completely gone.

"Don't know. Maybe I should lie down in the back. We get on a busy road and—" she was gone, so was her voice, took 15 seconds for her to return. "And I'm likely to scare the shit out of some people."

"No."

"Remy—"

"Can't keep my eyes on you in the back, _chere_; some people, they just gonna have to was their clothes real good tonight."

It didn't' come to that, thankfully. Rogue crouched in the foot well though Remy protested. She refused to let him stop in the first town or the second, though they did switch vehicles, but when they'd finally gotten somewhere large enough to have sleazy motels Rogue relented and Remy took care of obtaining their accommodations. Rogue dashed from car to room while she had solid legs, collapsing on the bed, and then going to mist almost immediately.

"Gonna be hard t'travel with you like dat, _petite_."

"I'm trying."

"Hey, now, I didn't say you weren't, me, jus' thinkin' we might need to find a place to hole up for a day or two, yeah?"

"She couldn't phase out when I was touchin' her, but if you touched me I'd kill you and we still couldn't travel." Oh, the irony. Rogue chewed her lower lip, at least while her teeth and lip were solid enough to do so. "Let's see if it fades by morning."

"Mm." He wasn't convinced, was more than a little worried and curious about what Katya might have put in her head too. "A'right den, _petite_. I'm gonna shower." That wolfish grin flashed, crooked and inviting and sinful. "Wanna join me?"

"Water games can be fun, can't they Gambit?"

It was Rogue looking at him. Rogue's slow southern draw dragging the words through the Muddy Mississippi before releasing them, but Gambit knew that hard edge, that subtle knife point and invitation, they belonged to Katya.

"Do you remember that time in the hot springs? I kept dissolving and re-substantiating in the most interesting positions."

"_Assez._ Rogue, you come on back now, _chere_. I wasn't inviitin' anyone but you t'come and play. Figured you'd snap me with a towel or somethin'. Know you want to."

"And since when does what anyone else wants matter?" Rogue's form wasn't slipping away from her anymore which said that Katya was in control now. Slender fingers lifted, unbuttoning the wrecked blouse. "Besides, her little body is a mess and could use a good scrub. Don't you scrub her back for her before you fuck her, Gambit? You were always so considerate. Until, of course, you weren't."

The shirt fell off, slender arms bowed back to take care of the clasps on the coral bra beneath. Remy grabbed those arms, careful of his exposed fingertips. "We're done, me and you, and that ain't got nothin' t'do with Rogue. You go on and let her loose. You're fine. You gonna wake up in a few days. She didn't do no permanent damage."

"No permanent damage?" Katya tossed Rogue's hair and laughed up at him, the rich green shot with blue now. "I'm in her head. In her body. That seems permanent and damaging to me." She arched the slim, strong body in a way Remy had never seen Rogue move herself and he reacted even as bile rose bitterly into his throat. "But you like it, yes? Her sweet little body and my naughty mind. Oh, this could be fun."

"Rogue, I know you're in there. You just shut her down, _chere_, jus' like you did on the road. Katya ain't stronger than you. Ain't better 'n you."

"Aren't I?" Nimble fingers managed to get at their goal, the bra undone and gaping, dragging at her arms.

Remy bent until their foreheads nearly touched. He never looked away from the mantis green cracked with blue. "Think about your heart, _chere_, the beat of it. You can control it. Means you can control any damn thing." Long, deliberate breaths lifted the man's broad chest. He too concentrated on that wild-winged heart, flapping frantically against the cage of ribs, waiting for it to settle, to calm, to stop struggling. He knew she could do it. Knew she would do it if he had to go in there and drag her ass back out.

Ah, but, then, there it was. The heart slowed, the breathing became purposeful and the body he had pinned relaxed under his fingers. Very carefully, thief's fingers drew the straps of the bra back up slim arms, slipped behind to refasten it. He never looked away from her gaze, smiling when the last of the blue was overcome by green. "There's _ma catin_," a whisper, all affection and purr, relief hidden in the rich, masculine tones.

"I'm half-naked. She was gonna kill you."

Gambit busted out laughing, then swiftly switched their positions so he was on the edge of the bed and Rogue was in his lap. No, she wasn't worried that she was half-naked with the most debauched mutant on the continent, but rather that she was half-naked and her skin was going to be the weapon in an accidental homicide.

Face buried in thick waves and loose curls, Gambit kissed in the general direction of an ear, lips rubbing over silky strands. "She coulda tried, _petite_. She could a tried."

* * *

**R**ogue only dissolved a few more times that night. When they'd gone a twelve-hour stretch with no incidence the pair took off again and they kept on moving, catching catnaps where they could. They saw another brief skirmish, opting to flee rather than to completely engage so no one would figure out Anna wasn't Moira. It wasn't fun and yet, it was the second best road trip Anna Marie had ever been on. It didn't quite top Logan and her on the road, however brief that had been. That had changed her life. Saved it. But it was damn close.

Still, when Remy said they were finally in the home stretch and heading for Muir Island, Rogue groaned in pure relief. "No pillows that smell like smoke. No more hamburgers from McDonalds. No more 10 hours in a damn car. I'm actually lookin' forward to touchin' you, Cajun."

"_Petite_, you coulda touched me anytime you wanted. We don' need an audience for that." His fingers twirled a white strand capturing her as surely as that sideways smile. _Le Bon Dieu,_ he was glad that wig was gone.

Rogue smacked his hand away. "How 'bout you jus' let me drive, Cajun?"

He'd borrowed a sleek red convertible just before they'd left France for Spain and Rogue just had to get behind the wheel. And it was _borrowed_. Once they ditched it in an easy for police to locate spot, the owners would get it back in the same condition, plus a few thousand miles, as when Remy hot-wired it. It would even have a full tank of gas, at Rogue's insistence.

"What we getting' for the drive back?"

"Who said we drivin'?"

And they didn't. Remy booked them on a 24 hour cruise from Santander to Portsmouth where they then picked up a mutant friendly flight to Scotland. There, a boat was waiting, direct from Muir Island, and Remy was left to captain it. Rogue was more than a little nervous about his boat piloting skills.

"I grew up on the bayou—"

"You grew up in N'Awlins."

White teeth flashed. "So you ain't got much 'bout _ma famille_, den?"

"Think all I got from you with all those touches is how to count cards, pocket 'em, or charge 'em. How are you managin' that anyway, sugar?" Finely arched brows were down in a scowl, but it was hard to say if it was confusion over how he'd managed the stream of information she gathered or their speeding along cool blue water.

"When you don' go deep you get surface thoughts, I think. Anyway, was a theory, seems to be workin' out."

"That touch you gave me on the road wasn't so surface," said almost too quietly to hear over the water and the engine.

But he did hear it. Glanced sideways at Rogue though she was watching the water. "You needed it."

"Not worried about what else I took?"

"From me? _Non._ From Katya? _Mais yeah_."

Slender hands splayed, palm up; Rogue stared at them when she spoke. "Got a lot. Try not t'look but she's….insistent. Doesn't like you much, Cajun." Rogue forced her voice to lighten, shoving her fingers into the pockets of the jacket she wore as if she could so easily pocket stolen emotion. "Well, least not anything but your body. Did you two really go at it in a downtown—"

"_Arette, toi,"_ but the laughter lacing the patois said the moment had passed from intensity.

"And that night in the hot springs, you really liked it when she used her mutation to—"

"Anna Marie!" Gambit sounded scandalized and that just tickled Rogue's fancy. She was still wiping laugh-tears from her cheeks when they finally docked at Muir Island.


	20. Chapter 19: Muir Island

**Chapter 19:** Muir Island

Moira's Muir Island facility was as different from Castle Cassidy as it was possible to be. Sleek, modern, and glass it poised on the high edge of the Scottish island. Three floors rose above the ground, giving glorious views of the ocean or the island proper with its picturesque village nestled below.

Of course, it was far more than the three stories above ground. Descending into the cliff, the facility housed another four floors. The first of those was Remy's favorite; each bedroom there had its own balcony. Oceanside, the balconies were carved from rock and the ocean spray might reach high enough to make you damp in rough weather and on the other, glass arched over sky and the view was as much beneath your feet as beyond it.

He'd only had a virtual tour in his capacity as security consultant, but the thief had memorized the layout and become familiar with every angle, every room. Knowing it so well, he was free to watch Rogue's reaction as they climbed from the private dock and up the cliff-carved stairs. From the pool to the panoramic views, he thought she was impressed.

"I cain't go in there," Rogue's whisper-soft voice coincided with a tug to his hand as she pulled them to a stop.

"Forget somethin' in de boat? I'll go back for it later. Ain't no one gonna take anything from down there, _petite."_

Green eyes, vibrant and sharp, locked onto his face in utter incredulity. "Look at me!"

Lazy and appreciative, his gaze did just that. "If you insist, _chere_."

One gloved hand propped on her hip, annoyance in every line of her. Rogue was wearing cut-off jeans and boat shoes, a shirt that kept slipping from her shoulder, and that hair of hers was stiff with salt spray and wind-rioted. Rogue knew exactly how she looked and it wasn't good enough to go inside. Her mama had taught her better. "That's a mansion, Remy. A mansion. You coulda warned me."

"Where's the fun in that, _ange_? And you only seen de outside. Wait 'til you see your room." He tugged and started forward, but she balked. "It ain't castley, at least, _non?" _The laughter in his voice earned him a punch, but they also started moving.

"I hate you sometimes, Swamp Rat."

"_Non, petite,_ you don't never hate me. You just love me. Violently, mebbe, but it's love."

They were both laughing, though Rogue's was grudging, as they stepped through a door into the main floor; it was filled with afternoon light. A fireplace and a large, curving couch sat to one side; to the other, a desk and a man in a pastel shirt. He nodded at them, but said nothing.

"Um, they should probably oughta frisk us or something, right?"

Remy slid his arm around her waist, tucking her close as he leaned down to whisper. "Dey recognize us. Been expectin' us."

"Right. 'Cause we're guests," as if reminding herself she wasn't a stray someone had accidentally let in who was most definitely not allowed on the furniture.

Guiding her along, he kept up conversation while she swiveled her head, taking everything in. "Rooms and den food."

Of course, he stopped in front of a white wall and that seemed to snap her out of the gawping awe. Just as she started to ask, the wall slid open. "I feel like James Bond."

The Cajun's laughter was immediate. "Anna Marie," he touched a button, then leaned against a wall, black jack eyes amused on Rogue, "you live in Xavier's mansion. You ride on de Blackbird and dat comes right up outta the tennis court. You train in de Danger Room. But dis make you feel like James Bond?"

"Xavier's is a school!" Gloved hands were thrown up in apparent exasperation. "This is-Well, I don't even know what this is. And there's a town down there. Do they not have a _problem _with her treatin' _problem_ mutants?"

"Ah, well, now, _chere, _dey really don't because_—" _Remy stopped his explanation short. Anna Marie wouldn't have heard it. The door had opened to reveal Wolverine, blocking their exit, arms crossed like he intended to keep blocking their exit.

"Weren't you gonna say hello, kid?"

"Logan!"

Anna Marie was like the key to the lock because Wolverine unclenched whenever she was around. Remy thought the girl was remarkable for that alone as the other man's arms wrapped around her. "Figured we could settle in a bit first, _mon ami_. But, I guess we gonna say hello instead. Make any new friends gettin' here?"

Logan looked up from Rogue. She smelled of sea salt and sunshine and uncertainty. The first two were irresistible on her. "Not new ones."

"But you all in one piece so dat's all dat matters, _ouis_?" Rogue shot him look as he edged by and into the hall. Remy just smiled back, a cat full up on canary.

"Moira? She all right?"

"Thanks to you, kid."

"Me?" Rogue finally stepped back from Logan, shaking her head slightly. "I wasn't even there."

"But they thought you were. Thought maybe she was you in disguise. Guess someone else saw our earlier tousle." His gruff voice didn't give anything away, but the wry smile said the whole episode had amused the Wolverine. "Wouldn't get close to her which gave me time to get reacquainted."

"They coulda killed her thinkin' that." When both men started to object, she arched a single brow at them. "Untouchable, power-drainin' girl. How would you take me out if either of you had a little less testosterone?" The obvious answer was, of course, from a distance.

"But they didn't and I took them out, real up close and personal like."

Pale beneath her newly acquired tan, Rogue didn't seem reassured. "And the research?"

"Forge is on it." Gambit understood what that meant and wished the big dumb animal would stop talking, but when Rogue's expression begged an explanation, the Wolverine just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Took an adamantium claw or two but it's-"

"I nearly get her killed and her research is ruined. No cure. No records. No—"

"Forge is a tech mutant, Anna Marie," Gambit's voice, reasonable and calm, broke in. 'Course, his hellfire gaze was neither as he looked at Logan. "Forge is on it den ain't nothin' t'worry about. But I am worried about findin' food and a bed, me. "

"S'all you're ever worried about," muttered hotly. "Let's go, then, sugar."

As they turned away, moving down the hall towards their rooms, Wolverine's voice called out a cryptic message, "Just remember he picked 'em."

"Picked what? The rooms?"

Remy nudged her back around when she tried to look at Logan, saying only,"Here we are. Dis one's mine." Inside, it was all window and bed, rich chocolate and sunlight. The floor was walnut, the variegated stripes striking against the white dressed bed; the view added all the color anyone could want.

"This is incredible."

Dropping his bag inside the door, Gambit gave a chin tilt towards a closed door. "Check out the bathroom."

With a gleam in her eye, Rogue did just that. The bathtub rested against the wide window with the same view as Remy's bedroom. Better, it was big enough for three; she'd be able to sink all the way in and stretch. Natural stone, bright white towels, a glassed in shower, and the scent of mint had her thinking it was more like a mini-spa than a bathroom. Not daring to imagine the door at the other end was a mere linen closet, she opened it only to find another bedroom. This one had windows on two sides, all sky and water and the outline of another far-off island. "Remy! Look at this!"

This room was done in bamboo and the earthy, noncompetitive tones that let the light and the sky be the décor. "You like it, _chere?"_

Anna Marie laughed her answer, "Who wouldn't? But who are you sharin' a bathroom with? Won't that be….Remy?" Perhaps it was the way he was leaning in the doorway to the bathroom or a glow in the red of his eyes, but it dawned on her that he wouldn't share space with just anyone. "We are not sharin' that bathroom. This is not my room."

"I think you know better than that."

"Remy! People with think—"

"That we're a couple? That we can't sleep in the same bed 'cause of your mutation, but that we still wanna be close?" He straightened; walked towards her slowly, like one might an animal they hoped to gentle but knew could get in a nasty bite if it wanted. "Think how easy it'll be to stay up talkin'? Or watchin' Netflix? And won't no one know how often we're together, us."

"But I thought, now we're here, that the whole charade would be done."

"Half-the-staff came from Cassidy Keep."

Rogue's mouth fell open. "The chef?" Remy's nod put the nail in the coffin, so to speak, but the tingling in her chest and along her shoulders didn't exactly feel like anger.

Then his hands were on her shoulders, skimming down her arms, chasing that tingle in a soothing stroke. "Come on, it ain't so bad pretendin' to be _ma fille_, is it? I'll go get you some food and your clothes are a'ready in de closet and de dresser, 'cept the bag we had with us." Remy knew if she were that irritated she'd have shrugged off his touch and possibly thrown something at his head. He gave her a minute to change her mind about the violence, then murmured, "We good, _chere_?"

Rogue's nod was a relief. He risked pressing a kiss to her mahogany and white curls, then left with a smile; the thief was smart enough not to press his luck. Little did he know Rogue was actually in agreement with him, pretending to be his girl wasn't bad at all.

Which is why, after they ate together, she kicked him out of her room and texted Bobby. Twenty minutes later, when they were able to see each other via the secure computer connection, she was sitting stiffly at a small desk and Bobby was smiling at her awkwardly. He looked every bit as earnest and handsome as she remembered.

"Thanks for calling, Rogue. We'd heard there was some trouble with the mission."

_And he was worried and you, selfish you, didn't think to call him except to break his heart. Great._ "Nothin' too bad. I'm not really allowed t'talk about it."

"I know." They were both silent for too long, too much time had passed for this to be a casual conversation. "Look, about the way we left things, I've been wanting to talk." His blue eyes were intense on her face, concern so obviously writ there.

"So do I." Rogue took a deep breath. If she did it fast, it would be like ripping a band aid. Sure, it would sting, but it feel better faster once it was done. "I shouldn't have run out on you like that."

His mouth hung a little crooked, a little sad. "It's okay. You were scared."

"And you weren't?" The words snapped and he flinched at the harsh tone. Rogue sighed. "Bobby, I think maybe it was for the best." He started to break in, but she held up a hand, still gloved. "Look at this? I don't even take my gloves off when I call because I'm so used t'wearin' 'em. We can't touch and that ain't fair t'you."

"It's not fair to you either, but I don't care." And he didn't. They'd find ways around it. As long as they were together, it didn't matter, did it? "I can wait. We can work it out."

"But I don't know even know how long I'm gonna be here tryin' to work it out." Before they all admitted there was no way to control her mutation, that is.

"Marie. Don't do this." Bobby leaned forward in his chair, hurt fended off only by his determination to convince her this wasn't right. "Please, just let me-"

"Let you what? Sacrifice bein' a teenager? Havin' a lover?" Tears burned at the back of her throat, but her eyes stayed clear. "Start datin' someone else. Kiss her. Hold her hand. Go swimmin' together. You'll see. You'll see I'm just not worth it."

"We could be worth it, Rogue."

His voice was so quiet, so sure and so broken at the same time. She had to swallow, find her resolve. "I hope we can be friends, when I get back I mean, but I understand if you don't think I'm worth that either."

She didn't wait for a response, broke the connection with the touch of a button. Curling in bed, on top of the blankets, Rogue didn't cry. She so rarely cried. She watched the ocean and let the voices in her head soothe her with the white noise of their thoughts.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Happy birthday, E! Thanks, everyone, for sticking around. I had to put Chaucer to sleep and then kind of needed a bit to get back to writing. Sorry to have scared anyone and very sorry to have made you all wait for me! I'm on a work vacation (house sitting) this week, so I'll try to post at least once more.

Amy, there are just some really well written Rogan stories out there. (Anything by Lachlan Rose, for serious.) I can't help but enjoy them even if it is always ROMY in my world. Plus, if she was going to be with anyone else (like, if I wrote a story in which Remy had died or they'd never met and he'd died...basically, he'd have to not exist) I can't think of anyone better than Logan. And I hate, hate, hate the Logan/Jean SL. But I'm with you on Magneto. I just can't see that making sense in my head. Even well written Rogneto would have to go so OOC in order for me to buy it that what would be the point? (Watch. Someone will now recommend an amazing Rogneto story and I'll have to eat my words.)

Thank you all again. I'll try very, very hard to let you know if there will be any other long absences. This one wasn't planned. Happy reading!


	21. Chapter 20: All of You

**Chapter 20: **All of You

No one missed that the smiling girl who'd entered Muir Island did not arrive at the breakfast table the next day. A rather less charming version of her did.

"Guess she didn't like your choice in rooms, Gumbo."

"The room is great," Rogue inserted flatly before Gambit could retort and get a verbal sparring match going.

Moira, having joined them in the kitchen on this floor, looked from one person to the other. Apparently unconcerned with her patient's mood, she jumped right back into work, "I'd like to resume our sessions today. "

Rogue's green eyes, Mississippi muddy, thick with secrets, settled on the scientist's face. It was Gambit who objected. "Mebbe we rest a day or two? Been on de run awhile now, 'bound to catch up wid us."

"Even better. We'll find out how emotion and stress can affect her siphoning abilities." That effectively ended the over breakfast conversation.

But, as it turned out, Moira was ecstatic with the variable interval she observed. Remy didn't get the two breaths before the sharp tug of Rogue's mutation had him pulling back. The fourth time the doctor said "Again" over the intercom, he considered going to the control room and charging all her equipment. Instead, the Cajun snapped, "_Assez._ We done wid dis portion of de trainin' today. You got anything new you wantin' to try, doc? 'Cause if not, I need a drink."

Remy could've sworn he heard a growl cut her off when the doctor unwisely seemed about to broach further activities. Gambit grabbed Rogue's arm and hauled her up, dragging her the two floors to her room. "What's going on, Anna Marie? You like a live wire, cain't no one get close at all." Hell, he was beginning to wonder if, in this mood, she couldn't siphon his life force by mere proximity.

"I'm tired."

"Bull shit."

"Watch your language."

Remy laughed, richly, while she slammed onto the small couch near a window and scowled. "You don't fuckin' care if I curse, Anna Marie, you got your own mouth on you. Now stop all dis. What the hell happened between last night and now? You ain't even seen anyone or talked to-" Remy paused, scrubbed a hand over his hair, damp with sweat. Having the life sucked out of you was strenuous, even if it was by a _belle femme._ "You finally talk to your special snowflake?"

"Shut up, Gambit."

Remy crouched, crooked a finger under her chin to force her gaze up. "What did he do, _petite?"_ His tone was softer, compassionate now.

And she didn't deserve compassion. "He didn't do nothin'." Remy did that thing with his eyebrow and his obvious skepticism just pissed her right off. "_I_ did it. I broke up with him. That make you happy?"

"It sure don't seem to have made you happy. So why you do it, _petite?"_

Tense silence followed his question, and then the outburst: "Because! Because I like bein' your pretend girlfriend!"

Very carefully, gaze riveted, he asked, "Why's that?"

"Because it's _pretend_, Remy. 'Cause you ain't gonna get mad that I'm not able t'_do _anything with you; 'cause you can just find someone to give you what I can't. Because it don't matter that every time you kiss me it's on my hair or through a glove. And that means I'm not gonna accidentally kill you because I want to be touched so much that when someone finally does I can't let go.

"When we're lyin' in bed talkin' I don't think about how you probably wish we could do any other damn thing but we're stuck talkin'. Again. So, yeah, I love bein' a _pretend _girflfriend," one of those gloved hands gestured wildly at him, "your pretend girlfriend."

"You know how to make a girl feel beautiful and special and I'm such a dumb, lonely hick that it don't even matter that I know it don't mean anything. Don't even matter that I know that I can enjoy it _because_ it ain't real. How fucked up is that, Gambit? And how is that fair t'do to anyone else?"

His heart ached and it wasn't just for her. There had been a moment, when she'd said she liked being _his_ that everything in him seemed to still, to quiver, to wait. He had no right to those hopes. They were just friends. Had no right to be hurt that she just meant she was happier having a pretend relationship than a real one and not that she was happier having a pretend relationship with him than a real one with Bonehead or anyone else. "So you just give up and blame me?" He stood, looking down on her and there was nothing playful about him just then. "We're not gonna be pretendin' forever, Anna Marie. Then what? Gonna try to find someone else to be your neuter stand in for a relationship?" A harsh pause as if he was really waiting for the green-eyed girl to answer. "Don't put that shit on me and don't sell yourself so damn short."

"I did the right thing! I set him loose so he can have a real life! And, damnit, you're the one asked me to help you! You're the one-"

"I'm the one you're hidin' behind. Do you want Bobby? Hm? You wanna kiss him? Fuck him? It ain't impossible, _chere_. " Remy moved in closer, predatory and lethal. Absolutely irresistible. He put a knee near her hip on the couch, braced a hand just behind her head on the back of it. "If this weren't a pretend relationship, if you wanted _me_, I'd risk the pain and the pleasure of touchin' you."

His breath feathered her cheek, her ear, down her neck as he caged her in. "I'd make love to you with my voice, have you sprawled beneath me in the thinnest silk and touch every curve, every sharp edge with my hands, my mouth." He didn't touch her now though, his body hovering over hers, an inch, a centimeter, close enough his heat washed into her. "If this were real, we'd keep practicin' every day to make it so you could control your mutation, and every night I'd show you why it wouldn't matter a damn to me if you never did.

"Satin, leather, something sheer and soft. We'd take turns on who stayed dressed and who didn't, or maybe just on which half was dressed and which wasn't." That smile, it was a sensual promise, just the other side of sex from the ones he gave her that teased. "We'd find out if water was a good enough barrier or maybe oil or whipped cream; experimenting would be half the fun. And you'd never doubt for a damn minute that I wanted anyone but you, _mon amour_. You'd never wonder if you were 'worth' it because neither of us would be giving up a damn thing."

Beneath him, her breathing was shallow and rapid, the tips of her breasts so close to touching his chest with every inhale that it wouldn't even require a noticeable move to have them brushing against him. Green eyes were wild, dark and needy. And confused. Remy could have her, now, could bend down and take her mouth and show her what he meant. His Anna Marie was that lost in him, that eager, that starved for what he'd painted that she'd take it when it was offered, however briefly, however falsely. She'd told him as much.

Remy'd hate himself after. "When you want someone that much, _chere,_" he murmured it almost against her ear, then nuzzled into her hair, hiding his face and breathing her in before he gave in to those green eyes, the curve of her glossy lower lip, the tip of her pink tongue. "Then nothin' gonna matter but him and you. Your mutation? That ain't nothin', not when a man has a woman like you." When he drew back, thinking he was in control again, her eyes were wet. _Le Bon Dieu_. He didn't want her to cry.

"Anna Marie," it was a whisper, a plea, and then Remy couldn't help himself. He bent his head. Her mouth was soft, pliable under his and eager. He caught her plush lower lip, the one she'd stroked with the tip of her tongue. They were long, delicious seconds, their mouths pulling apart and pressing together as if knowing how long it could last before her mutation would pull too hard. He didn't move his hands though he wanted to slide them into wild cinnamon and lightning curls, didn't frame her delicate face because the grip on the couch was a tether. And maybe she felt the same, because only their mouths touched, breaking apart and eagerly reuniting.

But, finally, knowing soon he wouldn't be able to stop, Remy pushed away; on his feet, the Cajun didn't look down to see if she was now spitting mad or if his own mutation,any part of it,had gotten the better of her; he didn't check to see if, still worse, she was crying. He was gone like the thief he was and all he could think as he went was _What the hell have I done?_

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, vacationing is great for writing. Also, the chapter title comes from the John Legend Song "All of Me" because I think of Remy and Rogue, or at least the _Maybe We Could_ version of them, every time I hear the song.


	22. Chapter 21: Alone in the Pines

**Quick Note: **There are a lot of new Cajun French words in the next two chapters. As that is the case, I put the definitions at the bottom of each chapter as well as in the glossary page. If the words are duplicated in further chapters, though, they'll only be in the glossary. **Update: Summerlynx helped me out with correcting some French cursing. YAY!

* * *

**Chapter 21: Alone in the Pines**

He wasn't going to apologize. Remy decided that around his fourth whiskey which he drank about ten minutes after he arrived at the pub down in the village. His mutation tended to help heal him. It was nothing like Logan's healing factor, but it made getting and staying drunk a challenge.

By midnight, having lost track of the number of drinks he'd had or the amount of phone numbers he'd collected, the Cajun had also decided he wasn't going to give Rogue days or weeks to brood; she didn't get to run away or avoid this until she felt like facin' up to it. He was always waiting on her to sort out her moods but this time he was having one of his own.

Besides, if she hadn't looked up at him with her breathe ragged and her eyes damp he could've walked away. If she hadn't ached so hard he felt it in his own bones, maybe the slap of her rejection (she rejected him, yeah, when she said she jus' wanted t'be a pretend girlfriend to anyone) wouldn't have turned in his gut. If she hadn't smelled of apples or tasted of honey—Fuck. Who was he kidding? That moment had been inevitable. He could have been less of a jackass, but, Lady Luck, she was a bitch, so their first kiss was him being a manipulative _couillon_ while she was feeling vulnerable. Too bad.

Yeah, in fact, too fucking bad. He wasn't going to spend the night down the village to give her space either. Money flung on the counter, the Louisianan stood unsteadily and pushed his way out. But even drunk the Prince of Thieves was no idiot: no way was he making the trek up to the damn fortress on foot. There was only one cab and only one place on the island where people might be needing it, which meant he pretty much just tumbled out of the pub door and into the taxi.

His generous tip, or maybe the cabbie's generous personality, meant he had a hand getting from curbside to door back at the facility. After which, Remy thanked the _Le Bon Dieu _for elevators because the odds of him navigatin' the stairs alone and successfully were slim. In his room, dark except for moonlight shining off the ocean, shoes were kicked off, the shirt stripped and tossed aside. He was gonna flop into bed and wait for morning to sort out anything else, like why kissin' his best friend had been inevitable in the first place, but his mouth tasted of ash and whiskey and he didn't wanna wake up to the taste of that and the headache he'd have.

All but falling through the bathroom door, he wished himself sober. Rogue was just snapping a towel around skin beaded with water. Steam rose around them, thick and scented with her. If his eyeballs hadn't been swimmin' in liquor he might've had a good picture, too, because she wasn't that fast with one foot in the bath and one out. As it was, he had this soft, watercolor blur of gold skin, lush curves, and lean muscle.

"What the hell, Gambit?" Nothin' soft about her mouth, though. Unless it was under his, tasting of honey and apples. "Well?"

"Sorry, _chere_, needed the—" he waved one hand in her general direction and Rogue couldn't decipher if he needed the shower to get rid of the cloud of smoke clinging to his skin or the toilet to hurl up the vat of whiskey he must've drunk to smell the way he did.

"You're drunk."

"_Qui? Moi?_ Lemmy ReBeau don't get drunk."

"Maybe no, sugar, but Remy LeBeau sure does." He blinked his red on black eyes, obviously not tracking. Rogue's fingers curled a little more tightly, securing the towel. "I think you should go t'bed, Remy."

The tall, usually graceful mutant took a step toward her and stumbled. Rogue darted forward, wrapping a steadying arm around him, until her bare fingers slid over smooth skin and solid muscle. She yanked back, unbalancing the inebriated thief, but even drunk Remy wasn't gonna go sprawling on the floor in front of his _belle femme_. He just managed to catch himself on the wall. His reflexes were slow, but he was still the heir to the Thieves Guild, _Le Diable Blanc_, Savate Fighter Extraordinaire. Maybe he made that last title up. Was still true. Wait. Was Rogue talking?

"Damnit. Don't fall and bash your head in while I get dressed."

He noted that she didn't quite close the door after her, but he wasn't sure he could keep the promise of not bashing his head in if he followed. Not for a peek. He wasn't a prurient sixteen-year-old. If he went in there, he could tell her he was sorry. _Non_, that was wrong. Somethin'. He had somethin' to say to her, something important. But when Anna Marie came back, when she placed a rag damp with cold water over his neck, tucked her thoroughly clothed shoulder under his to guide him to his own bed, he muttered, "You smell good."

"That's 'cause I bathed and not in whiskey and cigarettes. C'mon, sugar, let's put you to bed."

"Mmhm. Bed wid you. We don' have t'talk or nothin', jus' sleep." He smiled down at her, thinking of waking up wrapped in those damp curls. They looked so much longer weighed down with water.

"Nope. In you go, sugar." A nudge and he tumbled obediently. She was almost disappointed he didn't try to drag her in with him. Or maybe it was just a testament to his state, his head swimming, that Lover Boy hadn't tried that old trick.

"_Désolé_." Or maybe his head was clearer than she thought. "Bébé, please don't leave me alone in de smoke, here t'die without you." Or maybe not.

She brushed overlong strands of his auburn hair back, gloved fingers stealing over the sharp line of his cheeks. "Go on t'sleep, Swamp Rat. Ain't no one leavin' you tonight. "

His sudden laugh seemed bitter and clear, though his lashes fluttered over his burning eyes. "Yeah, dey all leave in de mornin', _chere_."

* * *

**R**ogue didn't expect him at breakfast, certain he'd sleep through that and their morning session with Moira. She was wrong on all counts. He showed barefoot, blue jeans hanging on lean hips, hair wet, one of those black tanks clinging to his damp torso. He hadn't bothered to shave and all he bothered with breakfast was coffee, black, and lots of it.

When Moira suggested they wait until he was less under the weather, his eyes burned at her, "So my health matters but her's don't?" Gesturing with his mug to Rogue, sitting with a fork full of eggs half to her mouth. Moira and Wolverine both looked to her, then back to Remy, though the Louisianan never took his own eyes off the doctor.

Carefully, Moira placed her delicate teacup on the table. "It's a rather more strenuous activity for you than for Rogue."

"You bothered t'ask her how it feels?"

"I watch her vitals, her health actively improves when—"

"Physical health, Doc. Thought you were s'posed to be the best, you." On that, he turned and stalked out. "See you in there."

Rogue hadn't given much attention to their new lab space yesterday. It was a sight more comfortable than the last, having been built for this purpose as opposed to modified for it. Still, it seemed sterile, antiseptic undercutting the scent of fresh flowers; it held that edge that said if she lost control there were things hiding behind the walls to take care of her-needles or gas to knock her out, fire prevention should she slip up and detonate a bomb with Remy's borrowed mutation. Rogue didn't know the precise specks, but she didn't have to. It made her itch.

Sprawled on a couch, head tipped back and eyes closed, coffee mug held by one hand and balanced on his jean-clad thigh, Remy didn't seem to care about their accommodations one way or the other. Rogue's tread was mission-light, but he still heard. "No need to go creepin' 'round like a t'ief, Rogue." That seemed to have amused him, mouth turning in a lazy smile.

"Jus' tryin' not to wake you, Gambit, but if volume's not a problem-"

"Now, dis Cajun don't say that, no way." He didn't open his eyes or turn his head as she sat heavily on her side of the couch. He knew, though, that she was facing him, slim legs drawn up and her chin perched there. Could effortlessly sketch her in behind his eyelids.

But he ruthlessly shut out any emotions she was projecting, though cutting off his empathy was like cutting off a sense; touch, smell, sight, he relied on his empathy as thoughtlessly and thoroughly as anyone did any of the normal five. Still, he was having a hard enough time being tangled up with his own emotions this morning. Eventually, Gambit heaved a sigh, rolled his head on the back of the couch. Opening his eyes marginally, he homed in on her too serious face. "If you're waitin' for an apology—"

"I won't hold m'breath." Rogue looked away first, fingertips toying with the edge of the black and grey striped sweater she was wearing over dark skinny jeans. "We don't have t'do this today."

"Sure do,_ chere_. I made a promise I intend t'keep." Heat flooded sun-gold cheeks; she was no doubt thinking about the things he'd said to her in her room, sober as a judge. Somewhere along the line he'd learned to read her. At least enough of the time to feel his stomach sour right then. "Rogue, mebbe we need t'talk—"

"We don't. 'Specially not _here._" Where Moira could hear them, was probably recording them. He winced and she assumed it was at her volume and not her refusal to have a personal conversation on Muir Island's record. "You don't feel well; this ain't a good idea. I don't wanna hurt you. I mean, more than I a'ready do."

"I'll be a'right, _chere._ " The crackle of the intercom gave Moira away, cuing Remy to straighten up and drop the very conversation he didn't want to have anyway. Turning towards Rogue, one leg crooked on the seat, arm draped over the back of the couch, he couldn't help but note the unusual distance between them. Not that it was unexpected. "You gonna have t'get closer, _petite."_

Her chin jutted, but the stubborn Southerner scooted forward until their knees nearly touched. Moira talked them through what she wanted for the session while they both peeled off their ever-present gloves. In this space, they didn't need electrodes. Sensors in the walls would monitor everything from body temperature and brain waves to heartbeat and muscle activity. Rogue took several deep breaths before she slid her hands over Gambit's, surprised when his elegant fingers curled strongly with her own. She counted, in her head: One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Prepared for him to pull away, but he didn't. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Missis—"Gambit, what are you doin'?"

Moira's voice came over the intercom then, "Gambit, please disengage from Rogue."

The lanky mutant did as he was told, slowly drawing his fingers from hers, loathe to give up the contact. He felt light headed and there were definitely spots dancing in his vision but: "It didn't hurt."

"Are you crazy?" Fingers were shoved into gloves before the untouchable girl was shoving away from him, apparently afraid he'd lost his senses and might grab hold again.

Gambit did reach for her, started to rise and follow, but though he caught her arm his hand simply slid away as he slid back to the couch. "Whoa. Still packs a punch though." He closed his eyes against the vertigo, amplified now over the slight hangover that had been rapidly improving.

"Gambit? Remy?" When he didn't answer, Rogue sank to her knees in front of him, just dared to touch jean-clad knees. "Sugar, c'mon, are you a'right? Doctor MacTaggert, where the hell is your emergency team?!" She looked wildly around the room, having no idea where the cameras were actually located, then back to the red on black eyes that were opened again. Eyes that mirrored her own just now.

"S'okay, _chere._ It just, it didn't hurt. Held on too long is all."

"You, you _fils de putain! _Jus' 'cause it don' hurt don't mean it's any good for you! You think of that? _Alohrs pas!" _Rogue was checking his pupils, his pulse, all the while dropping deeper into Remy's own patois.

"What you say?"

"Did I stutter, _cher_? _Merde!_ Doc, are you comin' or not?"

Remy's hands grabbed for the quick and certain ones doing what he was sure a bunch of high tech sensors had all ready done and reported to the Doc and her team. "Rogue, _catin_, look at me. Jus' calm down, yeah?"

"Calm down? Where the hell is the doc?"

Remy cradled her face, much as he'd longed too just yesterday, being careful to keep his exposed fingers from her skin by using the silk curls she hadn't bundled back. He figured they'd both had enough of an exchange for one day. "Look at me, Anna Marie. You see any dark lines on my face?"

Red on black eyes, his eyes in her sweet face, skimmed his skin—down his exposed arms, up his shoulders, over his face. "_Non."_

"_It didn't hurt me, bébé. _Not like your thinkin'_."_

"But I was pullin'. I could feel it."

"_Oui_, _chere_, you didn't stop it, but you sure changed it. It…" he blew out a breath, "well, hell, Anna Marie, it felt good." When she tried to yank back at that, obviously horrified, he followed. Sinking to his knees with her, his long fingers circled her upper arms. "This is good. It changed. If you can change part of it you can change all of it." Excitement unfurled in his belly. Excitement for her, for what it would mean to his green-eyed hellcat to be able to touch at will.

"But I don't even know how….I don't…I didn't do anythin' different."

"Oh, you did. You really did," Moira's voice finally broke through the speakers again, or broke through to the pair clutching each other on the floor. Could be she'd been trying to explain why she wasn't rushing into the room while Rogue had been yelling. "We'll need more tests, but Remy's vitals are still a bit…weak…so we'll need to wait a few hours. Rogue, if you are feeling in control," no doubt she hadn't seemed like it for the last several minutes, "I'd like to come in and have a word with you both."

They split apart, having forgotten they were not just being listened to but watched, recorded. Rogue smoothed the white strip of hair behind an ear and chewed her lips, avoiding eye contact while nodding her consent. Remy sank back onto the couch, leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs, but he never looked away from Rogue. "Yeah, Doc. Come ask your questions."

* * *

_"Bebe, please don't leave me alone in de smoke, here t'die without you."_ Remy's drunken lyric is from the traditional Cajun ballad "Les Pinieres". As is the chapter's title. In the song, a man's girlfriend leaves him alone in a burning pine forest. I first heard it performed by _Bonsoir, Catin,_ an all female Cajun band I adore. Kristi Guillory explains the lyrics in the video on YouTube, otherwise I can't find a translation. This makes me sad. Have I mentioned no French here? And certainly no Cajun French or Creole. I take all my words and phrases from an assortment of Cajun French sites scattered on the interwebs.

**couillon**—fool (not particularly harsh and can even be used affectionately)

**Fils de putain**—son of a bitch

**Le Diable Blanc**—The White Devil, one of the names Remy has been known by as his eyes 'cause people to think him demonic

**Savate**—French Kick Boxing, one of the styles of fighting Remy is known for

**Qui—**in this case, who (I am not getting too in depth on French grammar as apparently qui and que are interchangeable depending on whether they are a direct or an indirect object)


	23. Chapter 22: Envie

**Chapter 22: **Envie

Moira settled in, her blue eyes bright. "This is a breakthrough moment. Even if you can't repeat it right away, I want you to remember that, Rogue."

Rogue nodded slowly, sitting on her side of the couch and keeping a fair bit of room between herself and the Cajun. There was so much of him in her head right now, like the weeks of little touches, little memories had coalesced with this longer absorption. Or maybe they had back on the road from Cassidy Keep and this one had just triggered her to tap into them. Shaking her head as if she could shake Remy loose from it, Rogue tried to focus. "_Ouis,_ I'll remember that."

"Well, your accent's improved." Gambit tried for light, his mouth quirking, but Rogue's flitting gaze indicated that he hadn't hit the mark.

"I understand this is intense for you both. Is there a reason it might be more so? Has the nature of your relationship changed?" Of course Moira was privy to the not-so-honest facade. She was doing research; she needed unclouded facts even if the nature of their relationship had never been blue sky clear.

"That wouldn't matter." Rogue snapped before Remy could reply. "I've had other kinds of relationships and, trust me, they still got all," fingertips waved towards her face, "Dark Willow."

Moira's brows drew together. "Dark Willow?"

"She means de veins, _chere._ It's a Buffy reference."

"Buffy? Wait. Nevermind." Moira held up a hand as both Rogue and Remy smiled slightly, eyes meeting again for a longer moment of shared amusement before Rogue's fluttered away. "We'll table that theory for the moment. What were you thinking, just before you touched?"

What hadn't she been thinking would be a safer list to compose, because what she had been thinking was intimate, embarrassing. There'd been the kiss. Of how he must've been so disgusted by it, her inexperience; how he must have felt so sorry for her to have even bothered doing it. How he'd seemed hurt under the anger and she didn't know how or why that would be. "He looked so awful." Remy snorted; in pure knee jerk fashion she reached a fist over and punched his thigh. "You did! You looked pathetic, Cajun. Your head's poundin', you're nauseated, the smell of breakfast nearly made ya vomit this mornin' and you haven't had a hang over, not like this, since you first got fallin' on your ass drunk at age 12 with your cousin..." She trailed off, sealing her lips tight while Moira took notes and Remy smiled at her, bemused. "I'm sorry. There's just a lot goin' on up there right now. A lot of you, I mean."

"Don' be sorry. Dat's one of m'favorites."

Rogue laughed, suddenly, brightly. Remy responded, as he always did. "You cain't be serious. You were so sick and Tante Mattie made the biggest racket while makin' the greasiest breakfast I ever eat. How'd you even keep that down, sugar?" She didn't notice the interchanging of the pronouns, but Moira did.

Remy did too. "Sheer force of will, _ange_."

The space between them had lessened. She nudged him again, this time with the flat of her gloved hand. The hint of a smile continued to tug at her mouth as she turned to Moira. "Sorry, Doc. You were sayin'?"

"So you were feeling bad for Gambit?"

Rogue nodded. "He came in drunk last night and he seemed…" she wasn't searching for the word, just postponing saying it, feeling like it was a betrayal, so she exchanged sad for, "not himself. And this mornin', even before I knew first hand how bad he felt, I just didn't want t'hurt him anymore. I never meant to hurt him."

Moira wasn't lost to the subtext, but she didn't pursue it. For now. "Rogue, you also employed the biofeedback methods you've been practicing. It's the first time I've seen you do that spontaneously."

The girl looked surprised, then worried as her now red and black gaze shifted from Moira to Remy and back. "I guess, well, jus' that you said you wanted t'get a baseline before, so I didn't. You mean I coulda not been hurtin' him all this time?"

"No, no." Moira shook her head. "I think that your compassion, your close relationship, the continued touching, as well as the biofeedback training played a part in the difference this morning." When her patient looked relieved, Moira offered up a slightly wry smile. "I just hope Gambit doesn't have to have a hang over for a repeat performance."

Rogue's mouth twisted wryly; the man himself groaned. "Gambit agree with dat, _mes amis_."

Moira stood then, her crisp pantsuit falling into place as if that were her mutant ability: perfect grooming. "In that case, I'll see you both back here before dinner. Gambit, you should rest, drink plenty of fluids, and I'll check your vitals before our session this evening."

"You sure a few hours is gonna be enough? He held on a while."

"Not so long, _chere_, five, maybe six seconds?"

"One or two more and you'd have passed out, cowboy."

Moira cleared her throat and offered a medical opinion to quite the bickering. "She's right; you weren't far off from losing consciousness. Rogue's abilities are triggered practically instantaneously. Those few seconds you've been holding on are the few seconds it takes your body and brain to register what is happening to it." After that sank in, she continued as an answer to Rogue's worry. "However, there was less an impact on your overall vitals, perhaps because there was no pain. Pain is a stressor on all of your systems and shutting down is one way the body has to cope. It could be why you held onto consciousness, Gambit, and why your pulse and respiration were less effected than is common. Or it could be a new development, a slower intake rate."

Searing blue eyes, full up on equations and theories, no doubt, turned to Rogue. "Of course, there's no way to know for sure until we've set up a series of tests. And, as always, it would be more scientifically accurate if we had more subjects. We will, at some point, have to determine if this particular feat can be repeated on a subject with whom you are less physically comfortable. "

Though both young mutants were looking at her, her audience did not seem riveted. "Right, then. Gambit, I'm quite serious about the rest, particularly if we want to try again this evening. Rogue, if you could stay in company and note when the most obvious effects of this recent absorption wear off, I'd appreciate it." She left them to sort that out, knowing Rogue wouldn't want to hang around with a lab assistant monitoring her gaze, her accent, or the number of times she used Cajun-French, a dialect she didn't actually know.

"Maybe we could stay together, _petite_."

Rogue twisted her fingers in the sweater. "You're supposed to be restin'."

"I will, me. Out by de pool so you can get some sunshine, _mais yeah_? It's Scotland, won't be this pretty for long_."_

He'd been surprised when she'd agreed to go swimming if he cleared the area. But since she had, he booked the pool for her use only. Well, with him lounging nearby. He was wiped, didn't think it would be a good idea to get in the water even if Rogue was wearing a dive suit. And she wouldn't be. He'd been even more surprised to find out she owned a swimsuit and had packed it. What he didn't know was that Kitty had sent it.

'Course, it was only seventy outside so Rogue shivered in the green and gold one piece.

"How come I'm jus' findin' out you swim?" Remy brushed his hand at her, shooing her into the water.

"It's gonna be cold!"

"Naw, _petite,_ I got this." Dipping his fingers in, a warm glow started in the water. Rogue backed up a step and he started laughing. "It ain't gonna explode. Jus' warm up a bit. Go on, get in. Starts t'cool down you can try to warm it back up."

"And boil myself like a raw egg? I do not think so, Cajun."

Remy slid onto a lounge chair and Rogue dipped a toe in the water. It was pleasantly warm. Taking a breath, she executed a clean dive into the water and came up dripping.

A fuzzy memory from last night surfaced: Lots of damp gold dust skin and long hair, straightened by the heavy weight of the water. Remy shifted uncomfortably on his chair. "Why now, _chere?"_

"Cain't swim with anyone else 'cause if we bumped into one another, they'd pass out and probably drown. If it was too much and I passed out, well, good luck savin' me if we're all in our skivvies." Strong shoulders bobbed above the water in a half-immersed shrug. "Plus, you look so exhausted I ain't the least bit worried you thinkin' touchin' my skin's a good idea." Her smile was just a little evil, before it faded away. "Same reason I do, or don't do, most things, I guess." With that, she began long, sure strokes and Remy realized she must use the pool at Xavier's. _When_, he didn't know. Probably at some ridiculous hour of the morning when no one else in their right mind would be awake to swim. Maybe the Professor was even in on it and that's why it had a curfew and locked doors. Not that he'd never gotten in when he shouldn't, but what was a locked door except an invitation to a thief?

As he watched her swim, he knew that, from the outside, their teasing camaraderie seemed intact. They seemed whole. Remy knew better. It was still there, between them: what he'd said, what she'd said, the kiss. But, for once, they were seemingly in agreement on not needing, or wanting, to dissect the details or avoid each other until they were prepared to parse the whys and wherefores. Didn't stop him from replaying it, from licking his lower lip and thinking of the way her teeth had scraped there, so light and not at all uncertain.

Remy needed a distraction. "Eye check, _petite._ Come on over." She swam to the pool's edge as near to him as possible, hooking her arms on the concrete and kicking strong legs lazily through the water. "Still mine."

"Coulda guessed. I got a bad _envie _for crawfish and they ain't usually m'favorite." Not to mention, _envie_ was a purely Cajun word. "Plus," Rogue paused, cheeks reddening tellingly, and dove into the water.

Remy waited until he heard her break the surface, so tired he just had to close his eyes. "Plus what, _catin?"_

He drifted to sleep waiting for that answer.

* * *

**I**t was after dinner and their successful second session that Moira cornered him. Remy was going to his room, calling it a night early while Logan and his Anna Marie were settling in for some sort of cowboy marathon and chocolate torte made by the chef Rogue thought was going to poison her. She'd hugged him, before he'd left the room, quick and spontaneous. While those strong, slender arms were wrapped around him and he was taking in deep lungfuls of her scent, she whispered two things: "Thank you." Then, after a pause: "If I die, tell the police she did it." The chef had been watching, which he didn't think was going to help Rogue's paranoia any, though it did cement the idea that he was a claimed commodity. The thief was still smiling when Moira's voice reached him, pulling him up short just in front of his door.

"Would you mind if I came in for a moment? I just have one question I forgot to ask."

Forgot? Naw, the doc didn't forget no thing. But, gentleman that he was, Remy invited her in. He was still barefoot, still wearing those hip-hanging jeans. The only change from this morning was that he was downright pale instead of sallow and he'd yanked a sweater on because the mutant, who ran hot, could feel the chill in his bones. Happened sometimes, after Anna. "What's on your mind, Doc?"

"What aren't you telling me?"

Moira was never less than direct. "About what?" Remy leaned on the dresser, longing to crawl into the bed and crash out. A storm was brewing over the ocean and he wouldn't mind having it rage while he slept.

"About what this new development with Rogue actually feels like."

"Feels fine. No pain, like I said." Moira crossed her slim arms over her chest and an amused smile lit her face. She was really a lovely, irritating woman. "What?"

"Gambit you are one of the most naturally sexualized people I've ever come across. You make words like toaster sound rich and sultry."

He raised a brow, mouth curling. "Sounds good so far."

"And yet, every time you say 'good' or 'fine' in reference to how you feel when Rogue's mutation is pulling you now, it's as if you've got a mouth full of dry toast."

"In dat case, lemme try again, Doc. It make me feel," he lowered his voice, let his teeth sink into his lower lip for a moment, then murmured, "good, _chere_. Real good."

Moira hadn't had more than his friendly charm aimed her way and that was potent in it it's own right. Now, with the way his voice created innuendo, the way his heavy eyes watched her, she had to wonder how Rogue had resisted him this long. Moira feigned indifference; it didn't appear to fool him. "Remy. I can't help her if I don't understand."

"I don' see how you helped her so far t'be honest."

"I don't either. Except that the continued touching is perhaps making her less fearful of harming anyone and so she's changing the feedback loop that's held her powers from growing for so long."

"Well, if dat's it, I'd say my getting' her to act like my_ gaienne_ had more t'do with that then any work we doin' in the lab." _Bon Dieu,_ he was tired or he wouldn't have said that. Maybe if he didn't say anything else, the doc would bump over what he threw in her path.

No such luck, for the thief. "You asked her so you'd have an excuse to be physical with her? To make her more comfortable as well as…" Moira trailed off, clearly having an "and" she preferred to keep to herself. For Remy's part, he kept quiet. No use denyin' the truth when he'd handed it to her on a platter and no use elaborating on his less altruistic reasons. Good thing he wasn't playin' poker tonight or he'd be flat broke in no time. "I wish you'd told me. But, at the moment, it is beside the point. I do need to know, _she_ needs to know—"

"_Non._ Not happenin'. Forget it." This refusal was adamant. No way was he explaining to Rogue the details of her touch.

"Why wouldn't you tell her how she makes you feel?"

Gambit's gaze narrowed. They were still just talking about mutant abilities, right? "Doc, if I told her, it might make her backslide. Better she don't know til we see if she can keep doin' it, _mais_ yeah?"

"So, if I brought Logan in to try tomorrow and it was successful, you wouldn't feel any compunction about explaining yourself."

"Damnit, no. Doc. Why you gotta make de _misère_ for me, you?" Gambit lifted both hands and scrubbed them over his face, but Moira didn't feel a lick of sympathy. "It feels good. It feels…" Remy crossed his left arm over his chest, scrubbed the flat of his right hand on the scruff of his left cheek. "You don' want it to stop, yeah?"

"Like you don't want a good meal to be over? Or a backrub? That twilight space before you wake up?" Moira's voice was calm, but the questions were like tiny, sharp teeth in his brain. "Is it comforting? Is there the sensation of warmth? Cool? Do you smell anything? Taste anything? What, Gambit? Be more specific."

He didn't want to talk about this. Not to her. Not to any damn one. Not when it was about Rogue. But, eventually, knowing Moira would never back off and preferring not to have to explain to Rogue herself, he capitulated. "Like sex. It feels like good, slow sex that's eventually gonna take the top of your head off. "

"Hm."

Moira's reaction, so minimal, 'bout made him crazy. "Is that your scientific opinion, Doc?"

"It's interesting. Death and sex." Small, elegant hands gestured as if weighing one aspect in each. "Orgasm is often called _la petite morte_. It's interesting that it should be such a drastic swing. It didn't become neutral but highly pleasurable. And, then too, with you. As I mentioned, you're very overtly sexual and the attraction between the two of you," a muscle ticked in his jaw, "makes me wonder if this specific feeling isn't related to her very sexual feelings toward you." Of course Moira knew, as did anyone who had seen them together, but she also had the reinforcement of having watched the way their brains lit up around one another. Although, Rogue's brain was proving to be impossible to map. "Of course, it could be catered to the victim." Again, that ticking in his jaw. The Cajun usually didn't have tells, but two unusually long bouts with Rogue in one day and something was bound to slip. "Although, who doesn't like the feeling of good sex?" Moira was talking more to herself than to Remy at this stage. Working through what he was sure were only the very first of the many thoughts she'd have on this new development. "Rogue and Logan have a rather different relationship. I'd be interested to know if his experience would now be similar. "

"Or not. I don't think their relationship is as uncomplicated as you're thinkin', Doc, and if she gives her mentor an orgasm while you're recordin', might just scar us all for life." It wasn't funny. Not at all. But he didn't want Rogue touching anyone, least of all the Wolverine, like that. Ever.

"Which might cause her to backslide as it does appear her control is tied up with her emotions, either about her—"

"If you call me a fuckin' victim one more time, we gonna have problems. An' don't ever use that word t'Rogue." He didn't mean to come across quite so harshly, his usual _bonhomie_ cleared right away with fatigue and emotional upheaval and the thought of what that word would do to Rogue's ever fragile peace of mind.

Moira's gaze sharpened on his face, finally registering Remy's uncharacteristic show of annoyance; she shook her head, blonde hair swinging like a pendulum. "I won't. And I hardly meant it in that manner. It's simply that as far as biology and genetics, her mutation would make her the predator, the apex predator, in fact. Even a feral like Logan doesn't stand much of a chance, not once she's gained control of her abilities. To try to kill her is to kill yourself; even if one gets away, your attack has allowed her to acquire the perfect manner in which to hunt you: knowing your every thought, quite literally owning whatever advantage you might have possessed in power, ability, or knowledge while simultaneously strengthening her own stamina and diminishing yours."

His Anna Marie an apex predator? He shook his head. "In theory, Moira, maybe." Remy was tired and moved around her to his bed, not giving a damn if she stayed or went as he peeled off his shirt. "But Rogue, she don't wanna be no predator. 'Sides, she loses herself when it happens, no? Makes her vulnerable."

"Hm."

He turned, fingers on the button of his fly because it was the same reaction she'd had before launching into her newest dozen theories. He was beginning to think that "Hm" was her form of "Jinkies!" or "Aha!" But, whatever he'd said to spur that scientific mind of hers, Moira had decided not to share as his room was empty. Fine. Good. He needed a bed. The trouble with Rogue's new twist to her ability was that he had to be told to let go or he'd simply let her drain him dry. He hoped it was just part of the twist and not that he suddenly had a bad _envie_ for Anna Marie. That was gonna be a lot harder to satisfy than her hunger for crawfish.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Once again, super thanks to Summerlynx for catching the horrible misspelling of some fantastic French curse words. I'm doubtless going to make more mistakes, especially as I've yet to purchase a Cajun dictionary and I s'pose where most people who actually speak it don't spend much time writing it, the resources online are sometimes sketchy. I try to double check, but sometimes I'm super excited to post and then...you know. If any of you catch anything else, please let me know!**  
**

**Bonhomie**—geniality; pleasant disposition

**envie**—hunger or craving for something; said to a person it would mean sexual desire e.g. J_'ai envie de toi._ (I want you.)

**Gaienne**—Girlfriend (*Not gonna lie, this one is a little suspect. The regular French is different, but this keeps popping up on the Cajun sites.)

**la petite morte**— literally: the little death; figuratively it is a reference to orgasm

**make the _misère_** (or, make the misery)—to cause trouble for


	24. Chapter 23: Some Nights

**Chapter 23:** Some Nights

**R**emy all but missed breakfast, stumbling in to the kitchen usually only shared between him, Rogue, and Logan only find Forge and Anna Marie sharin' a table. "Mornin'," voice gruff he gave them a brief pass before filling up a mug with coffee. After the first spikey charge of it, a sigh felt down to his bones, he crossed back to Anna Marie. "Shouldn't you hurry up, _petite?_ We got five minutes." Absently, his hand stroked down the long sleek tail of her hair. She'd taken the time to straighten it this morning and he missed the curls, the bounce and the chaos that he felt suited her.

"Moira said we're not havin' one today." A session, that is. "Didn't she come find you?" Green-eyes peeked up over her own coffee mug, brows lifted in question.

Hand curled casually at neck, Remy looked back down with a frown tugging his wide mouth. "A break? She said we're takin' a break? She sick or somethin'?"

Rogue laughed, quick, maybe just a little off. "No. You're takin' a break. Me, I got biofeedback stuff and more trainin'. But you," and she stood with this, causing his hand to drop away, "are supposed to be recuperatin' after yesterday."

"We'll see 'bout dat," muttered before he brushed a kiss over the slicked back white lock of hair. "Meet me for lunch on our balcony either way."

But when he found Moira, he found out the doctor could be as stubborn as his own self. "I'm fine," insisted, again.

"It was different. You held on for longer." Moira pinned him with blue eyes, pianist's hands pausing in the act of putting away beakers of bright green liquid. "We're not risking either of you. Go lay by the pool, take a nap, workout if you feel up to it. Stay away from Rogue."

Which seemed to be a prescription Rogue took all too seriously. She didn't join him for lunch, just popped in to shower and change before yet another round of who-knew-what with the Doc and the Wolverine. That night, she and her friends took over the main floor seating area for a movie night. And when the hell did she find time to make friends with the staff and handful of other mutants at the facility with Moira's schedule any damn way?

Every time he suggested they talk, suggested they spend some time one on one, she popped up with someone else: Forge at breakfast, Moira's assistant Shane at lunch, Logan all damn evening after their final spar of the night. This went on for days.

But, he was a thief; if what he wanted was to steal was a private moment, it was a simple thing, a small matter of planning. When Rogue assumed he'd be working on island security, because he'd made her think as much, he knew she'd find a quiet corner. The girl didn't like crowds so much, not with one in her head all the time, but she'd been puttin' herself in the middle of them for near on a week now. He'd heard her lately, muttering in a mangle of Russian and English, about needing one solitary silent minute.

She didn't disappoint. After slipping through her room, Remy found her, as expected, alone outside. Beyond the cliff's overhang, rain came down in sheets, but there wasn't so much wind it blew in on the balcony she occupied. Rogue, feet up on a rail, balanced a journal on her thighs and used her pen to tap her lips instead of write.

"At last, _chere_, I get you alone."

At the sound of Remy's voice, Rogue had to talk her spine stiff before looking towards the man himself. "Actually," feet slid from the rail to the ground and she shut the journal with one hand, "I was just 'bout to go find some lunch. You hungry, sugar? We could-"

"_Non_, _petite_. It's time we talk." Leaning down over the chair, he caged the smaller Southerner by placing gloved hands on the arm rest to either side of her. "You been avoidin' me."

"Naw." When he lifted a brow, Rogue rolled her eyes. "Fine. Sort-of. Yes! But, I just think it's better this way."

"Better we keep our distance? Better we don' act like friends no more? You telling' me you had enough?"

"No. Remy. No." Genuinely surprised, fingertips fluttered, brushing the heart-half resting flush against her skin but hidden behind the bulk of a sweater. Her eyes darted left, towards the water and the grey veil of rain, avoiding the intensity of the red-on-black gaze singing her skin. "I meant, I think it's better we don't talk about it. What happened. You keep tryin' but I just don't want…."

He knew instantly what she thought he'd been trying to do. He leaned a little more, not bothering to explain he'd been fine with ignoring the kiss as long as it didn't interfere with them. Looked like that ship had sailed. "Just don't what, _ange_?"

"It'll change everything," a whisper when Gambit expected a shout. "It's better if it just, just happened 'cause I was mad and hurt and I said things that made you mad. If, if…I don't wanna hear you tell me you did it 'cause I was cryin' and I - "

"Never cry," he interrupted, finishing for her in a voice so quiet the beat of the ocean on the rocks would have overwhelmed it if he wasn't so close.

Nodding slowly, all but enveloped by him, Rogue didn't deny her worry. "So you felt bad for me. 'Cause I was pathetic and lonely." But that wasn't all. "And I don't wanna hear you jus' did it to prove it could be done and Blueberry Popsicle wasn't man enough to figure it out." Un-gloved fingers twisted in her lap, a ring with etched roses circling her thumb.

"And what about what I want, Anna Marie?"

What could he possibly want except what she'd already said _she_ didn't want to hear? Mule-stubborn, she refused to ask.

"Maybe we stick with what I don't want. For now." Their faces were close, a scant inch or two, a slight adjustment and his forehead would lean against hers or their mouths would touch again. "Maybe I don't want t'hear you kissed me back because you were wishin' I was someone else. And maybe I don't wanna hear that you kissed me back because you ain't never been kissed."

To her, the hard angles of his face were unreadable, the glow in his eyes indecipherable. Even Remy's voice, that deep Louisiana drawl that should be so familiar, easy to read, was too dark and deep to belong to the Remy that belonged, just a little, to Anna Marie D'Ancanto of Meridian, Mississippi. But this man that she didn't recognize called to her; Rogue felt the tug low in her belly, in the heat that spread across her shoulders and flared down her spine. And it terrified her.

"And I, I. If there was something else besides anger and hurt, maybe I wouldn't know what to do with that. Right now. Maybe, maybe I need things to stay the same. For awhile."

In the hush that followed, their gazes stayed locked, their breath mingled, and the ocean beat hard against the rocks below. Eventually, his hand lifted, gloved knuckles skimming curls away from a sun kissed cheek. "Alright den." When he straightened, tall and lanky, eyes still over-bright, Rogue wished him back and bit her tongue so she didn't say it. "I'm goin' t'de mainland for the night."

She didn't know if he'd only just decided it or had been planning it all along. "Sure, sugar." After a solid minute of silence, she added, "Thanks." Remy's intense look prompted her to explain. "For goin' to the mainland so no one thinks your cheatin'. Might be hard to behave like, you know, " a hand waved in lieu of words before her arms, covered in cable-knit, wrapped loosely at her waist. He was still so close and so uncharacteristically quiet that she had to fill the silent space between them."I'd say no glove, no love but since it's me you might not get that I'm talkin' condoms." Remy didn't laugh, not even the hint of a smile cracked his usually mobile mouth. "Have fun." That heat from earlier seemed to have collected in her stomach, twisting there. She refused to think it was jealousy.

Remy bent, pressing his lips to the crown of her head in a gesture he'd made a dozen, a hundred times before. "Take a break your own self, _catin_."

In the quiet after he'd gone, Anna Marie let the voices in her head have free reign, wiping out the question that had popped into her head, accusing and clear: _What did I just do?_

* * *

**H**e was pretty sure it was Alice. Maybe Amber. Ashley? Okay, so he wasn't sure 'cept her name started with an A and she had red hair, long legs, and a brogue that put her on that side of stereotype. That was the first night, quick and hot in the bathroom of a pub. The next afternoon he'd wooed a slim, fragile French woman with a cap of mink hair. They'd spent a delightful couple of hours in her suite at a local inn before she had to catch a flight to Rome or Romania or maybe it was Rehoboth. It was gone and that's how he liked it.

He liked less thinking of going back to Muir Island. Still restless, still tight with need and feeling blessed by the emotions of strangers, he strolled into the pub that had so far gifted him with two beautiful, temporary companions. And that's how he met the insatiable pixie he holed up with for the next two days. She was the barkeep and had an intriguing tattoo that disappeared under the slim red tank she wore for working. He'd had to know where it ended; particularly when, on what was only his second night at the gleaming bar of her small pub, she'd laughed up at him. "I think they've been warned about you, Red Eyes."

"_Moi? Mais pourquoi? _I'm just a gentleman on holiday is all, lookin' for a good time_. Laissez les bon temps rouler_ is the cry of the Cajun, _non_?" Watching her work, Remy decided she had a certain appealing edge with the piercings ringing the crescent of her right ear, the asymmetrical hair cut dipped in electric blue.

"A battle cry after my own heart, it is then." They'd exchanged smiles and, from there, a whole lot else. Sunday became a much better night than Saturday. He'd intended to leave, planning to get back to Rogue in time for their session Monday morning, but Cass had other ideas, other fine ideas. When he'd sunk between her thighs, her smile as sly and sharp as his own, he'd felt the first real satisfaction he'd had in weeks. Turned out, she too had agile hands and they swapped techniques on hot wiring vehicles as well as favorite joy rides. By then it was Monday afternoon and she was dressing to get home, figuring her flat mates thought she'd been kidnapped and turned into haggis; Remy settled his mouth into the delicate curve of her neck, his thief's hands doing all the work of convincing her to stay. Tuesday neither of them tried to go anywhere further than the door to let room service in.

Come dawn on Wednesday, Remy's head was clear. At least, it was clear enough; the emotions he'd been hazed by for a week simmered instead of boiled and he knew a lengthier absence wouldn't do him any favors on the return side.

* * *

**A**nd he wasn't wrong, though he was late by a day. Two days after he'd left Rogue didn't care what she'd done or what that slimy, lying no good Swamp Rat thought about anything. He didn't call. He didn't text. And so she made her own damn plans about her own damn mutation. And why not? He wouldn't even talk about it to her, so, by God, she didn't need to talk about it to him.

* * *

**He** couldn't go back in the clothes he wore, not even washed and pressed; people would guess he'd be doing just what he had and that was the last thing he wanted for reasons both complicated and simple. So, he ordered new from the hotel, planned to leave the others behind to be donated. Thinking of giving to the poor made him think of his tiny pop chock, the only reason he'd think to donate instead of trash in the first place.

"What's on your mind, gorgeous?" The woman's voice was amused; his smile changed from affectionate to pure sex.

"I was thinking' that we never did get around to you showin' me the town." Nimble fingers found her thigh, skimmed up a pale leg.

The robe Cass wore unbelted fell apart as she rose from her chair to straddle his lap. "Next time?"

"Mm. Sure thing_, petite_." When their mouths sealed he didn't think of the taste of apples and honey or lost mermaid eyes; he thought there probably would be a next time.

Still, he needed to get back. He'd taken his holiday, cleared his head, and dealt with the frustration a week of being aroused to the point of insanity by the mere whisper of skin-to-skin contact had created. He could explain to Rogue, now, what her touch did and he could do so without thinking he might grab her and kiss her until one or the other of them passed out. He knew now whether or not his messed up head, that hunger he'd had for her, had anything to do with the pure frustration of unsatisfied arousal or if it was something else, something more.

Of course Rogue'd be angry. He could have called. He should have called. Remy acknowledge that for the fifteenth time as he jogged down the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator, in a rush to get to their practice room. Reception said that's where he'd find her.

Of course, Remy LeBeau wasn't 'bout to enter like he'd been racing to get home to her. Opening the door, expecting to find Rogue working on biofeedback or spitting mad while she waited to see if he'd show just so she could take a strip off of him, he stepped into their usual room;with more energy than he'd had in weeks, his smile caught between sheepish and cocky, he was prepared to deal with temper, no, he was actually eager for it. He liked her tempers. Rogue, however, wasn't alone. That bright green gaze swung up to him; reminiscent of their first meeting, it dulled down to army fatigue drab. "Rogue?"

"Gambit. Wasn't really expectin' you this morning."

"I can see dat, _petite_." An unfamiliar girl with purple hair sat on his side of the couch. He gave her a slow, speculative perusal and a smile; the man in the chair opposite, their resident tech mutant, got a dip of the chin in acknowledgement just before Remy tucked himself between Anna and the arm of the couch.

Rogue tried not to grind her teeth when his arm stole over her shoulders. "Leah, this is Gambit. Gambit, they've volunteered to help."

"Nice t'meet you." his gaze shifted back to his Anna Marie as he continued, "But I don't follow. Help wid what?"

Rogue's elbow hit his ribs and her stubborn chin raised slightly. "With my….treatment."

"Ain't that nice." No one thought he meant it. "If y'all would just excuse us for a minute." Wrapping the arm over Rogue's shoulders too tightly to be dislodged without a scene, he hauled the diminutive spitfire to her feet and out the door. Once it was firmly closed between them and the virtual strangers, he pinned her with hard eyes. "What de hell is goin' on?"

Rogue shrugged him off, whirling so they stood toe-to-toe. "What the hell do you think you're doin', Cajun?"

"Lookin' for some answers. You ain't wanted no other person t'touch you, t'be in your head, but I go away for a couple a days and you got two people jus' waitin' for a little suck?"

"You went away to get_ laid_ for _three days_ and missed a few key conversations." The sentence whipped electrically between them. "Cain't know if you're the only one this works on unless I try it on someone else and I refuse, absolutely fucking refuse, to use Logan. Kitty and Piotr offered t'fly in from New York, but that seems a bit extravagant, don't you think? 'Ya'll fly on over so I can suck the life outta you but maybe, _maybe _it'll be pleasant when I do it.'" Her gloved hand slapped into his chest. "Besides, if you'd come back when you said you would, I'd've told you. But you stroll in at eight a.m. _three days later _and demand answers? How 'bout I demand a few? How'd you feel about that?"

"I got hung up - "

"Oh, oh. You got hung up. You like a dog? Get your winky stuck in some poor girls vagina and couldn't get out? You need Life Alert for these tricky dick situations you find yourself in?"

"Damnit, Rogue. _Arette." _Gambit was fast losing his own control as he grabbed her and moved them further away from the door. "You coulda called. You coulda talked to me."

Rogue's laugh was bright and sharp, painful to hear and even more to watch. "Cause I was the one refusin' to communicate?"

Eyes narrowed on her stubborn face, he drawled, "Soundin' like this about what I was doin' for three days."

"I think you mean _who_," spat right back at him as she jerked, dislodging his hands from her arms yet again. "But I don't care where you wanna poke your peen, Cajun. This is about you sayin' you'd be gone for a day. A _single_ day. About you not showin' up when you're the one said you made a commitment you intended t'keep."

He didn't know if it was having his promises flung in his face, a promise he'd bent if not broken, or just having her standing less than a foot away sharpening her teeth on his hide, but he roared back, "Do you have any idea what keepin' that promise is like? What touchin' you does to me?"

Remy'd never yelled at her before, not like that, not with rage firing his words. While part of her was stunned, Rogue still slapped back. "No! 'Cause you and Moira decided t'keep me in the dark about _my_ _own_ mutation!"

"There are reasons, Rogue, scientific - "

"Oh, for Pete's Sake. That's exactly why Forge and Leah are sittin' there waitin' for me to life suck 'em. For _scientific purposes_."

Green eyes rolled and her voice absolutely dripped disdain. Remy thought they were probably gonna have to clean up the puddle she was making on the floor. "Yeah, and everyone's been makin' that argument for months, but you suddenly agree to it when I go have sex."

"You weren't here, damnit." Rogue stomped her foot, actually resorted to stomping her foot like a petulant two year old. "I couldn't talk to you about it when you didn't show up! And why would I be mad you were havin' sex? 'Caus I cain't? Well, then I'd just have to be pissed at every person who walked by, wouldn't I?" Her hands flung up, gestured wildly in the general direction of the exit. "Go! Go fuck every woman in Scotland, Remy. I'm pretty damn sure if I wanted you I'd just have to say the word." The moment the words were airborne she wished them back.

But there was no wishing words back and Remy, who had a moment ago been all volatility, went calm. "Is that right, _petite?" _There was no more lash, no more turbulence in his tone or volume. And that was terrifying.

"Remy," now she stepped forward, gold warmed cheeks paling, "don't. I didn't mean it like it sounded."

He let her close the distance, then tipped his head so she breathed his air. "And how did it sound, Anna Marie? I think I could take that a couple of ways. How exactly would you prefer?"

Emotion bottle necked in her throat, trying to race up and spill itself at his feet. All stuck, practically choking on apology and explanation, she couldn't find a single, solitary syllable to offer.

At that, he made a sound, not really a laugh, but not anything else either. Stepping back, Gambit opened the door and gestured her inside. She could do nothing but follow his lead and feel only frustration instead of relief when she mustered a whisper, "You stayin'?"

Action had to suffice as answer because the Cajun was apparently done talking. While Rogue proceeded to the couch, back to Forge and Leah, Remy took up a lean by the door; a coin appeared in his fingers and flipped lazily across his knuckles. All was silence. No one wanted to snag a sound on the trip wire of the tension between Rogue and Gambit.

However, they couldn't stay like that indefinitely. Moira's voice, professionally crisp, came across the intercom. "Rogue, when you're ready, I'd like you to start with Leah."

Anna Marie absolutely refused to look Remy's direction, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze on her cheek, on her motions as she carefully peeled her gloves away and extended now bare hands towards the other woman. There was no backing out now, thought she felt strangely on display.

Leah lifted hands curled into small fists while searching Rogue's face. "Nervous."

"I don't think it'll hurt." She hoped it wouldn't anyway.

Leah unfurled her fingers, raised her hands in front of her. As if preparing for a handclap, the two women touched, palm to palm. One breath, two. Rogue expected the woman to ease back, but instead she let out a soft moan that had Rogue both pulling away and flushing with confusion. Wide-eyed, she watched Leah's head fall back, lips opened slightly. Oh, God. She'd hurt her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't - "

"Don't be. That didn't hurt a bit." The words were breathlessly amused. Rogue had to fight the urge to look at Remy for an explanation or sympathy, something. "Could do that again if you need."

"That won't be necessary at this time." Moira's disembodied voice took control again. "Forge, if you're ready."

When he started to rise, Rogue waved him back into his seat . She crossed the small distance and stood in front of him. "Probably best you stay seated." Green eyes darted towards Leah. A small smile still played on the woman's mouth, her head was still against the couch back and her eyes closed. "Never know what might happen. Don't want you crackin' your head on anything."

Instead of responding to Rogue, Forge turned his head, obviously looking to Remy. Rogue couldn't help but flick her gaze the same direction, note the way the two men exchanged nods before Forge lifted his hands for hers. It made her furious, that Remy thought he had the right to bestow permission to touch her. But now wasn't the time, so she lifted her own hands even as she closed her eyes and concentrated on the thrum of blood in her veins, the wild winging of her heart. She calmed, but sacrificed Forge's expression when his fingers flexed and gripped hers instinctively; sacrificed the look exchanged with Gambit that prompted the man to peel his hands back. Instead, when she smiled down at Forge after the other mutant had disengaged, he looked composed, though his breathing was a touch rapid and shallow. "Guess you won't be volunteerin' so soon, huh?"

Forge very precisely did not look anywhere but into her bright eyes. "I think it would be best if I didn't."

Before Rogue could turn on Remy, accurately gauging him as the reason, Moira intoned, "Forge, Leah, please remain where you are. We've some questions for you and need to monitor your vitals before you may leave. Rogue, Gambit, if you would adjourn to my office, I'll be with you momentarily."

Rogue shoved her fingers back into her gloves while Remy continued to casually lean at the wall, though the coin had disappeared again . When she drew close, he held the door and stood in such a way that it was impossible that her shoulder, arm, hip didn't brush heavily against him. She hated him, then, sparking off that contact, feeling small and angry and so confused she felt the sting of tears in her throat. It wasn't right. _They _weren't right and, the fact was, that was the worst part of all.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Um, so, hi! This chapter is very, very long. Sorry it took me ages to get it here. I had a tough time with the opening, setting up where this was heading. There are still a couple of sections that feel not quite right, stilted maybe, but I figured if I kept staring at it we might never get to the chapter after it!

One thing I forgot! From "Envie": Thanks to Ekster for the idea that Remy was planning to help get Rogue comfy with the touching with the fake girlfriend bit. (Really, it was just me going: Yes! That! I want that to happen! and ignoring author things like _why_ it should happen.) amrawo, I'm so, so glad you're enjoying them! I'm having a blast writing them. E, I listened to the song and checked out the lyrics. I think that could definitely fit them.

Anyone else get all geeky and think of them when listening to music? Love to hear what puts you in mind if them if so!

Also, thank you, thank you for all the reviews and follows! If you have any questions, lemme know and I'll try to answer.


	25. Chapter 24: Radio Silence

**Chapter 24:** Radio Silence

**W**olverine was waiting in Moira's office; he didn't looked pleased by it, arms crossed and leaning against the wall much as Remy had done earlier. Gambit and Rogue took seats, but no one bothered to attempt conversation until Moira had joined them. Rogue, fed up with polite, burst out, "I want to know what the hell is goin' on and I want to know now."

Moira, unperturbed, sat down and folded slim hands on the desk before regarding Rogue with very steady, very clear blue eyes. "Which is why we're here. When the manifestation of you mutation changed it seemed that the best thing to do was to find out if this was something that you could duplicate and something that you could duplicate with people you were far less comfortable with than Gambit."

"Yeah, yeah, Moira. I get it. The Scientific Method." Her eyes rolled as she spoke, obviously unimpressed with Moira's process. "Problem is, I don't really give a fuck about you documentin' it or provin' it to some scientific journal when you publish a paper about me."

Logan's voice rumbled in warning, "Marie."

"What?" Her head whipped around, green eyes sharp and narrowed. "She's been holdin' stuff back, talkin' to Remy about my mutation. You gonna tell me that's all right, Logan?" The gold flash of feral eyes earned him a satisfied nod. "Exactly. So someone start talkin'."

"My fault, _petite_." When Moira would have interceded, Gambit held up a hand. "Let me, yeah?" Then the lanky mutant turned more fully towards Rogue. "I didn't know how t'tell you what it felt like." The red in his eyes was at a low glow when they met hers, searching them as if hoping to find the words there instead of forming on his lips. "Still don't, _petite." _What he couldn't possibly understand was how his discomfort made it worse for Anna Marie. Remy could talk about anything without flinching but now he had nerves; his voice, his smooth, confident patois was low, was soothing instead of matter of fact or laugh-laced. "It's….erotic. Pleasurable. Sexual."

Logan's growl and Anna Marie's gasp mingled. "Wait. What?" Her fingertips started to glow, visible through the gloves. That was Leah's mutation. Girl gave off light. It wasn't much and it wasn't harmful so Rogue ignored it. "Is that supposed t'be a joke, Gambit?"

Against instinct, Remy left his back to Logan and focused fully on the sweet girl with the pale cheeks and the over-bright eyes beside him. "It ain't a joke, _catin_." One of his gloved hands found hers, curled loosely because she seemed on the verge of bolting. While he wanted to anchor her, her never wanted his wild-winged pop chock to feel trapped. "It's why I didn't know how to tell you. Thought maybe it was because…" He didn't finish and he didn't have to. He thought the change was because of the kiss. That it was an intimate shift between the two of them alone. "But, den, Leah and Forge seemed t'—"

Yanking her hands away from his so they could fling up, a wall for his words to fall against. "I just…did they just…Oh my Gawd. Oh my Gawd." Cheeks that had paled now flushed hotly. Rogue shot to her feet, slim and shaken. "Well isn't that just ironic. Can't have sex without killin' someone but I can give you an orgasm with the touch of m'skin. At least you'll go into a coma with a smile on your face." Twisting, eyes snapping, she pinioned Logan. "Did you know?"

"I would have told you, kid."

"How am I supposed to trust that? I trusted him!" A wild gesture towards Gambit . The Cajun watched, face impassive, as she stalked towards the door. He knew now wasn't the time to follow; embarrassed betrayal was fueling her as much as righteous anger over being kept in the dark.

The other man in the room didn't have any impediments on his conscience, though. Wolverine shifted into her path, blocking the door. Rogue wasn't having any of that. "Get outta my way or I will drop you. And it won't feel _nice_."

"Touch me."

"Excuse me?"

"You got a right to feel lied to. Violated. But I ain't never done either, kid. You need proof, you touch me and see what the hell's in my head."

Under other circumstances, normal circumstances, if such a thing existed, Rogue would have refused. Of course she believed Logan. Hands down, he was the most trustworthy person in her life. But it wasn't other circumstances; she had Leah and Forge freshly tangled up in her head. And Remy, fucking Remy LeBeau, had kept a secret he had no right keeping.

"Fine." But she wasn't stopping long enough to take off her gloves. Rogue heard Moira's protest in the background, muted by the rush of her own blood in her ears. Grabbing Wolverine's shirt, she yanked him towards her. He could've moved his head. The kiss would've landed on his cheek, the scruff of his jaw maybe, but instead their lips sealed together. It was a kiss that tasted of all her fury and embarrassment, a kiss that tasted of Logan, a little feral and ripe with honesty.

"You're glowin', kid," the rumble of his voice was practically against her lips as they pulled back.

"Leah's mutation."

He didn't nod. "You got what you needed?"

"And then some," whispered.

Without another word, he stepped aside, no doubt met Gambit's gaze when he looked over her head. Rogue wouldn't know. She simply uncurled her fingers from Logan's shirt and finished her exit.

The moment the door closed, Remy challenged, "What de hell was that, Wolverine?"

"She needed to know not everyone here would lie to her."

Having gotten to his own feet, the light in his eyes full of a brimstone promise, the Cajun curled his lips. "You kissin' her mebbe was the most honest you been wid dat girl, no?"

The Wolverine snarled, lips peeling back from strong white teeth. "That any of your business, Gumbo?"

_As a matter of fact._ "You takin' advantage is my business."

"Enough!" Moira's brogue was broad now, the unshakeable doctor shaken. "I made a mistake. It's mine and I'll take full responsibility for it. You two can go to your separate corners and cool off as soon as someone tells me what Rogue is likely to do now."

That was simple and the two men said it together: "Run."

* * *

**A**nd run she did. But not far. Rogue snaked the keys for one of Moira's cars with absolutely no remorse. She sped around the curves taking her away from the cliff-top facility to the village below. Apparently, the damn thing was a mutant haven where humans and mutants could live side by side. She wouldn't know first hand because she hadn't left the damn lab, like a good little maze-mouse, since arriving. She only knew what she did because of her recent friendships with the mutants who came and went daily from the facility. No one else, read Remy or Logan or Moira, had bothered to tell her or ask her if she'd like to explore. Nope. _Just work, work, work so you won't be such a damn detriment to the team._ And she knew that wasn't fair. It's what she'd wanted. Remy, Logan, the Professor-not one of them cared if she learned to turn her skin off as long as she learned to be happy with it.

Rogue growled into the car, hands all but white-knuckling the wheel, a faint glow emitting from beneath the cotton there. Maybe taking Logan had been a bad idea. Her tongue lapped her lips. She could still taste him, smell him on her gloves, thanks to his heightened senses. But his temper really hadn't needed adding to her own. Not today anyway. But, hell with it, she'd enjoy the ride and block out the absolute embarrassment of what she'd just done to Logan, Leah, and Forge. She refused to even think about Remy. About the glow in his eyes. About the way his mouth had felt on hers

Didn't mean Remy LeBeau wasn't thinking about her while waiting for Anna Marie to return. And she kept him waiting until sunrise. That's when he finally felt the whiplash of her presence in the hallway and finally heard the rustle of her moving about in the other room. He didn't sleep, that was ruined, but it felt like he could finally breathe.

'Course, if Rogue had known his relief she'd have slept in the car she'd borrowed or in a pool chair or a damn ditch. She wasn't keen on making his, or anyone else's, life easy over the next several days. There was silence. No, that's not true. With Logan, Forge, even Shane, she was almost herself. Logan was the only one who might notice that half-note of wrong in her laughter, the tension sizzling over her skin, or the wary way she positioned herself in relation to others. Even he hadn't realized how much more comfortable she'd been here, on this Scottish cliff, then back in New York until that comfort was gone.

No one missed it, though, when she spoke to him or to Moira. The sarcastic Southern belle was excruciatingly polite and excruciatingly distant; she avoided even the most casual of brushes against him.

Remy hadn't realized that in the act of making her comfortable with his touch, he'd come to rely on her physical presence as much as her personality. His restless fingers twitched every time a white curl slid over her forehead or she tugged the mess of silk into a ponytail; he wanted to brush it back or tug. He was accustomed to having her slight frame tucked up against him, her sassy mouth insulting him all the while she nuzzled and cuddled. And, fuck, if the Cajun was going to be honest with himself—and he tried to be—he'd taken a sort of pride in being the one person she cozied up to. And a comfort. She'd become his touchstone too.

Which is why , on the third night since the confrontation, screams woke him, instinct took him to her side with no consideration that she might prefer her nightmares to his aide. When her sleepy eyes opened, neither spoke; he held her until she'd fallen asleep again. Still, the next morning, she was cool and polite and so un-Anna Marie he almost thought he'd dreamed holding her. Until her screams again ripped him from a dream so real his body reacted to it before his mind had caught up. He could swear he smelled apples when his feet hit the ground.

And, of course, he did when he climbed into bed with her. Smoothing his hand through tangled white-on-red curls, the Cajun murmured to her in French and brushed his lips quickly over damp cheeks. She never said what nightmares she had or whose. He never asked.

Hours later, both of them standing in the kitchen, she looked at him vaguely and asked in a perfunctorily Southern-polite way, "Would you care for a muffin?"

"_Non,_ _petite_."

Taking her own and a drink, dismissing him, Rogue turned to Forge. It was as if someone had flipped the power switch when she smiled up at the man. "Hey, darlin', I took apart this thing the other day—"

Forge's deep laugh preempted the rest of her statement and he snagged his own muffin as they turned for the door. "Thought you said my ability didn't stick with you?"

"It didn't. Your curiosity, though, that's hard t'shake." Remy watched as she hip-checked the much larger tech-mutant and shined up at him as they left the room. Shined up at him and left Remy with a cooling cup of coffee in his hand and an ache in his chest.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry! Once again, I was having the worst time with this and then some real life stuff got all messy. I'm making no promises about updating swiftly, but I am going to _try_! Thank you all sooo much for the encouragement, the reviews, the likes, the follows, and the impatience for more.


	26. Chapter 25: Meddlers

**Chapter ****25:** Meddlers

**_"I_**_t feels like what?!"_

"Kitty! Shh!" Rogue frantically hushed the other woman while scanning the computer screen as if she could tell if anyone in New York had overheard Kitty's outburst.

"Rogue! That's—"

"You cain't tell anyone, Kit." Anna Marie interrupted, suddenly second guessing the wisdom of telling Katherine Pride. Usually, Kitty had it a bit more together. "Only people who know are involved in my treatment, except for you. I just, I needed someone t'talk to 'bout it who wasn't a doctor or a subject."

As if Kitty wanted to be the one to break _that_ news to Bobby. Being in the middle was hard enough without trying to navigate a minefield set with sexualized life sucking and the daily Cajun touch. That did not mean she wasn't curious. Biting her lip and leaning towards the screen, Kitty whispered into the headset, "Remy and you touch _every _day?"

Kitty could clearly see color flare in Rogue's cheeks, but could not bite down her smile fast enough to not earn a glare from the Southerner. "Not every day."

"But almost every day?"

"I told you: I ain't really been talkin' to him since he didn't tell me about...and then he took off for three days to, to…screw his way to clarity, I guess."

Kitty sighed. She'd have to check on him next. He had to be going out of his mind for reasons Rogue either didn't see or didn't want to acknowledge. "Rogue, when it comes to you, that man is a saint. If you two ever—"

"It ain't like that." Rogue was quick to say it, though since that kiss and their conversations skirting it, she'd begun to have her doubts.

Either Kitty didn't believe it or she had clued in to Rogue's own lack of conviction because she looked at her friend with unmistakable skepticism. "If it's not like _that,_ that's _your_ choice, Rogue." Before the Southerner could reply Kitty twisted, looking over her shoulder at some cue Rogue couldn't hear. "Someone's at the door. We'll talk soon. And you should talk to Remy." Her blue eyes were steely when they came back to the screen. "I mean it." Kitty turned away again, covering the mouthpiece to call to whoever was hitting the door, though the sound didn't carry through the headset. Whatever the exchange had been, exasperation was writ obviously on her face. "I really have to go. If you get a chance, call John."

"Is he okay?"

"Just…he'd like to hear from you, I'm sure." The screen went blank, leaving Rogue with a number of unanswered questions.

* * *

**"Y**ou could speak to him," Forge's voice was quiet as the big mutant settled himself next to her on bench in the training room.

"What? Who?" Rogue's gaze skittered up to Forge, then down to the shoes she was lacing on her feet just as if she hadn't been watching Remy working through a Savate training program with Moira's version of the Danger Room.

"Rogue." Forge, as it turned out, had is own store of patience. He waited in silence until she finally looked back at him. Then, he smiled. "He loves you." Rogue's pulse stuttered. "And you love him." Right. Forge, like everyone else, thought they were a couple. She started to open her mouth in protest, but Forge continued on in his deep, silken voice. Rogue secretly though he should've been a late-night radio DJ who played love songs and jazz. Jazzy love songs. "He kept a secret about you because he loves you and wants to protect you. It wasn't the right way. But is it worth hurting both of you like this?" And maybe give advice. A lonely hearts jazzy love song DJ. Whether the question was meant to be rhetorical or not, Rogue didn't respond. "Are you still angry? Or just embarrassed?"

Of course, that earned him a Mississipi snappy, "I liked it better when we weren't friends." Rogue stood, placing fisted hands on her hips as she looked down at the still sitting Forge. "Now, c'mon, techie. I fully intend to kick your ass."

Logan's laugh, rumbling and welcome, warmed her from the inside out. "You know he's not just a tech mutant, Rogue."

"Rumours. I'm guessing he can't invent his way out of my mixed martial arts training." She added a hair flip and sauntered off with a smile she hoped hid the raw and opened wound in her own chest.

But she kept watching Remy, trying to work through why he hadn't left though she wasn't speaking to him. How far he'd take this tactic of patient but un-pressured presence. How many nights he'd catch her in the nightmares and bring her back. That number kept adding up: Three and then four and then five. Remy never wavered. And that was the thing, wasn't it? He'd made a mistake but a mistake meant to protect her. Wouldn't she do the same for him? Wouldn't she make that same mistake even if it meant he never forgave her? And was she still angry? Or just embarrassed that the untouchable girl also had an x-rated touch? Was she embarrassed that it was x-rated or that she wanted him, or someone, to feel like that about her without her mutation being involved?

Disgusted with her lack of answers, Rogue couldn't see how to approach him and discuss the wound of his silence when her emotions about it were so ambivalent.

Then six nights became seven and she couldn't concentrate on the theoretical. The dreams became more intense and no amount of meditation, no psychically built walls would hold them back. Finally, she approached Moira.

The doctor, as usual, skipped straight to the point. "They're probably brought on by stress."

Rogue shifted uneasily on the same seat she'd occupied the last time she'd been in Moira's office. As that meeting hadn't gone particularly well, she wasn't exactly feeling open and at ease. "I guess that's possible."

Moira rose from behind the desk, smoothing hands over a dove grey dress as she skirted around and took the empty seat beside Rogue. "You haven't confronted Gambit about his decisions or me, for that matter. You aren't one to avoid, Rogue."

Rogue's laugh was harsh and a hand, wrapped in brown suede, slapped her thigh. "A lot you know. I ran away from Xavier's when things got tough and nearly killed a whole hell of a lot of people. I broke up with Bobby when—well, I did, and that's like runnin'. I was only able to even do those things 'cause I ran away from home once my mutation manifested. So tell me again I don't avoid things, Moira."

Nonplussed, the doctor sat back slightly and regarded the wild-eyed girl across from her. "You didn't disappear on us. Say what you need to say, Rogue."

Rogue didn't speak. Seconds and then minutes ticked by but Moira simply waited.

"You had no right. Any information about my mutation belongs to me. What we do or do not do with it, is up to me. My body, my choice."

Moira nodded slowly. "Yes. You're not a science experiment, Rogue, and you deserve to know everything I know about your situation in order to make your decisions. I can't apologize enough for keeping you in the dark. It won't happen again. I understand I've broken your trust and that will be hard to rebuild. But I'm committed to trying."

Rogue searched the other woman's face, somehow finding it strange to be on the receiving end of an apology after her temper had taken control so totally. "Okay." It wasn't eloquent or elaborate, but it was honest.

Moira hesitated for a fraction of a second. "You need to talk to Gambit as well. We'll try guided meditation, deep relaxation, a massage if you'll allow it—Shane's very good. But, ultimately, a great deal of your stress is coming from the rift in your relationship with Gambit."

Moira wasn't wrong. Neither was Forge or Kitty. But that didn't make it any easier. And every night that he held her, followed by a day where she essentially ignored him, made it that much harder for Rogue to find a way to breach the space between them. Seven nights turned to eight, then nine. She decided to stop counting, mostly because even during the daylight hours she was finding it hard to concentrate. There were a lot of voices clambering in her head and as she grew increasingly worn, they grew increasingly resilient. Oddly and noticeably absent from the din was the Remy LeBeau she'd trapped in her head.

* * *

**Eleven** nights of nightmares and 14 days of polite distance had left Gambit's muscles tense, his head muzzy. By the looks of Rogue, it was also taking it's toll on her. And he could only imagine what kinds of things the facility's staff were saying to her.

To him, there were comments. Whispers. Suggestions on how to get his girl back or what some would be willing to do to help Gambit get over his presumed heartbreak. Logan, in particular, seemed pleased with their distance, but that was nothing new. As far as he knew, though, his Anna and the Wolverine hadn't kissed again. As far as he knew, Anna Marie wasn't interested in the Wolverine the same way the animal seemed interested in her.

But what the fuck did he know? He'd been a damn fool to kiss Rogue, to take advantage of her; he'd been a damn fool to tell Moira before Rogue how her mutation had altered, a damn fool to insistently not explain to Rogue what was happening, to have stayed gone for days—his bad decisions just kept piling up.

Even giving her distance. Gambit had been so certain he knew his pop chock. So certain he understood that she'd need time to process the lot of it—from the kiss to the change in her mutation to the reasons he'd withheld an explanation. Fourteen days of polite indifference except when gripped in someone else's memories said clearly that he didn't know nothin'.

Except that he'd made a tactical error when he hadn't confronted her about her sense of betrayal immediately, allowing insecurities to fester. He'd admit now to every wrong doing since the kiss. He'd even tell her that his reticence hadn't been her embarrassment so much as a truth he'd wanted to hide: the pull of her skin was merely his own desire manifest. If she'd just look at him with life in her eyes, he'd repent. He'd rather have her spitting mad then have to face the blank girl who brushed by him in the morning.

Caught up in regret, Remy scrubbed a hand at his face. "_Couillon_." And worse. So much worse. He almost looked forward to her nightmares now, to sliding into Anna Marie's bed even though he knew he was only welcome there as a tether to reality. He lived for the moment when her heavy lids would lift and she'd actually _see_ him. Disgusted with himself, he mumbled, "Dat's fucked up, Remy. Tante wouldn' want you havin' no truck wid dat."

And still, something akin to anticipation kept him awake each night, though he desperately needed rest before Rogue's dreams began. Thinking he might relax with hot water and still be near enough if the dreams came early, he began stripping on his way into the darkened bathroom. The scent of cinnamon and apples had him instinctively dragging in a deep, appreciative breath before the implication stopped him in his tracks. Red-on-black gaze shone in the dark, flicking over candles before homing in on the woman in the bath. "_Désolé, petit_e," his voice was rough, even ragged sounding with his surprise. "I didn' realize you was in here." Remy began backing out, unable to avert his eyes. He couldn't look away because she was looking at him, really looking.

A slim arm, glistening with water and dotted with suds, lifted from the bath and beckoned him in rather than shooed him out. Her voice, when it came, was husky and low. "It's alright. I'm covered." Mostly. "'Sides, I seen you naked, Cajun."

Remy's slow retreat ceased. Pressing the temporary reprieve, the thief retook lost ground, eventually nesting the small of his back against the lip of the sink's counter. Grateful but wary, he drawled, "I think I'd remember that, _chere_.".

"Oh, honey, you do." Rogue's voice was wry, amused. It sounded to Remy almost like she was laughing.

For a moment, he just smiled down at her. Her skin was flush from the steam of the water, bi-colored hair in a haphazard tangle and little curls springing around her face and neck. She was smiling. Okay, she was giving him a half-assed smirk from the dancing shadows, but that counted for a Rogue smile. It was a testament to how much he'd missed her that it took him precious seconds to fully comprehend what she was saying. "You been Peepin' Tom, _petite_?"

"Mist is persistent." His eyes fired and Rogue's smirk sharpened. "Hey, you the one went skinny dippin' with your cousins. Don't see how that's my fault."

Remy clucked his tongue and advanced. "Now, now. Dat aint' even fair. I was a little bit—"

Rogue snorted. "Aint' nothing' little about you, Gumbo."

For a moment, silence. Then his laughter rang out, deep and rich and so damn relieved. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he flicked bubbles at her.

"Hey, careful there! That's my modesty you're playin' with."

That was true enough. Real bubbles were never as plentiful as movie bubbles. "_Pardon_, _mon coeur_."

But, Rogue, his Rogue with the mercurial eyes and the soft heart hidden behind admantium walls, was feeling magnanimous. Or, maybe honest. "Not that you didn't see more when Mist was tryin' to death-by-sex you."

Remy wasn't sure he could stop grinning down at her if her life depended on it. He was damn sure he couldn't if his did. "All this dirty talk your way of sayin' we okay, _ange?_"

Her soapy hand lifted and pulled up a slightly damp gold heart-half. "We'll always be alright, somehow. This ain't me apologizing, though, so get that right out of your head."

"You ain't got nothing' to apologize for."

"I know, sugar," sassed with an upward flick of a finely arched brow.

"I'm sorry, Anna Marie. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Sorry for a lot of things, _catin_."

A hand, bare and slim and slick with water, rested on his thigh, squeezed. "Remy. No more sorry. Let's just…." Breath trembled over her lips. "It's strange. Makin' people, makin'…you…feel that way." Green eyes shifted away, drifting to the dark landscape beyond the window. "Point is: It's gonna keep happenin' 'cause I'd rather that than cause you pain. Just gonna have t'live with it." But she didn't keep her face hidden, once again meeting his burning gaze with her own. "No more secrets, Remy. Not like that. You worried about me, you tell me. You unhappy with me, you tell me."

"I won't keep nothin' from you that's yours. Hell, nothin' that's mine either, if it's something you want to know." Then there was quiet as gloved fingertips carefully traced over the soapy hand on his leg.

But Anna Marie wasn't done. Oddly stoic in the romantic light of candles and the froth of bubbles, she finished it. "I would've been embarrassed no matter what. I barely know what physical intimacy is and there I was drivin' you up the wall. But I woulda gotten over it in a few hours, a day maybe. Asked you some really personal questions." Her lips quirked, a little, before settling again. "I was hurt that you didn' tell me. That we spent I don't know how long makin' you crazy and you didn't think you could talk t'me about it. That I was too young or inexperienced to understand…I don't even know what you thought, but I—"

"Anna. No" His hand caught the side of her face, a gloved thumb brushing her lower lip as if to brush the words away while his grip tightened on the han dat his thigh. "It wasn't you, _catin_. Never you. I didn't understand what I was feelin'." He did now. "That won't happen again. I won't shut you out."

"I'm gonna try real hard not to shut you out either."

"Or run? And to not throw things at my head?" A smile played subtly with his mouth.

"Well, now, it's one or the other, Swamp Rat. You cain't ask for both." Again, those smiles in the near-dark.

"_Chere?"_ Leaning forward, intent on the green gaze and the heat arching between them, Remy drew in a breath ripe with her scent. His voice was honey-thick when it rumbled between them. "You ruinin' m'pants."

Rogue's laugh was more snort. Cutting her free hand sideways through the soapy water, she doused the impertinent Cajun and set them both to laughing. All might not have been right in their world, but as they were both still keeping secrets, it was as right as it was going to get.

* * *

**Author's Note:** ACK! I know. Drama llamas, the both of them. I think, though, that this might just be a turning point for Little Miss Runaway. Thank you all for your wonderful, wonderful reviews! You've given me a couple of ideas for the upcoming chapters, including another Gambit/Wolverine confrontation! Also, this is another situation of I've written 90 versions and had to post or risk changing what happens again. So, let me now if you found any mistakes or anything felt too abrupt and I'll try to head back in with my wrench and tune it up.

Also "death-by-sex" is direct from a book series I love: The Fever series by Karen Marie Moning. It's romance and fantasy and super mature, but I think if y'all are enjoying this you might just enjoy that. If you've read it, or end up reading it, let me know and we shall fangirl together about dreamy alphas and how very badass the heroine is.


	27. Chapter 26: A Change Will Do You Good

**Chapter 26: **Change Will Do You Good

**R**emy'd thought it would take days or weeks for things to normalize, but it hadn't. They'd spent over an hour talking while she was in the bath that night, Remy dipping fingertips into the water to heat it back up until Rogue had laughingly lifted pruned fingers to him and demanded a towel.

When her nightmares came, she threw her arms around him and asked if he could stay, promised to sleep with her head at his feet so there was practically no risk of skin-to-skin contact. Remy ignored the offer and instead tucked her against his chest. The next night, they'd had dinner in bed, watched four episodes of the _West Win_g (the girl hadn't seen it and that just wasn't right) and when it was time for bed he didn't bother lying down in his own.

They resumed their sessions with Moira, with some adjustments. They were now only every other day and Remy made plans on the mainland twice a week. Everyone knew it was to handle the state their continued work put his body in, but he was always back by dinner, never staying the night, never disappearing for days at a time; it didn't seem to cause much more than a long look from the only person who's opinion on his activities that concerned him.

Of even more concern than her long, speculative, looks were the nightmares; they never abated. In fact, they seemed to worsen in that first week of resumed training. There were times when he woke her and the first look she gave him wasn't Rogue at all. Certain barriers had been torn down and now they moved in each other's space more frequently which meant he knew more how her control was slipping. It was small, subtle things: answering a question in a language not her own, a way of moving her body he recognized as Logan's or Piotr's or didn't recognize at all.

When he broached the topic with her, she shrugged. "It's been a problem since I was fifteen, Remy."

"Are we pushin' you too hard, Anna Marie?"

"No one's pushin me but me, Remy. And I don't think stoppin' would help." Rogue assured him Moira knew and that meant so did the Professor, Jean, Beast, and Storm. Wasn't no one comin' up with a solution, though. Least of all him. All he did was try to help her hold the threads together in the dark.

"You just about died, Remy," a hot Southern voice sassed close to his ear, but only after she'd shoved him down to the trash littered cement and landed on top of him. "Clue back in, Cajun. We're in a fight for our lives."

Remy snorted and rolled, pinning his partner beneath him. "Then stop playin' around, _chere_, and get to work."

"Me? Playin' around!" Rogue spluttered while he laughed and sprang to his feet, whipping around just in time for another threat from Moira's almost-Danger-Room.

He took a hit to his ribs, then slammed a fist into his opponent's face before grabbing his bo staff and sweeping a second attacker to the ground. "Yeah, you even on your feet, yet, _catin_? I know m'pretty face is a distraction, but…." A body plowed into him and when he spun, he saw this time it wasn't Rogue but a sneering Friends of Humanity member she'd apparently hurled at him.

"I'm your ally, remember?" Shaking off the dazed human, he looked up to see Rogue moving fluidly and swiftly to dispatch two more attackers. They went down and, with the threat neutralized, the simulation switched off. Remy continued to frown at Rogue while she drug in air.

"You coulda leached 'em, Rogue," Logan's voice carried as he jogged down from the control booth. "Why didn't you?"

"Cause I don't want no Friends of Humanity members in m'head. 'Sides, I beat 'em didn't I?"

"You sure did, _ange_. That move you did at the end? You know what that's called?"

"What move?" Green eyes blinked at the still staring Louisianan. "Did I hit your head when I knocked you over?"

"Saved his life. Almost got taken out by a gun." Logan snarled. "You want to get her killed, Gumbo? 'Cause you came damn close to getting the both of you shot."

"Not real focused, me. _Pardon_." Remy didn't rise to the bait and that had both of his companions looking at him sharply. One of them assumed he was up to something, the other worried he'd suddenly taken ill. "Rogue, try t'take me down like you did that last man." He gestured her on, but she shook her head. "I jus' want t'see somethin'_. _Head tipped as if just considering something, amusement began to play on the Cajun's mobile mouth. "You ain't afraid of me are you, _ma belle fille_?"

Logan snorted, but backed him up: "Go on, kid." It was hardly necessary.

Remy's taunt had lit some fire in her mercurial green eyes. "A'right. But, c'mon. He was attackin' me."

So Remy attacked. Rogue defended, but not quite as cleanly and not at all in the same style as when she'd taken down the computer opponent. Remy made her go again. This time, he took her down, but nothing of the cocky showed on his face or passed his lips as he helped her up. "You record our trainin', Logan?"

"Yeah, bub. Why?" Not long on words, the headway Logan had given Gumbo to investigate whatever was stuck in his craw was about up.

"C'mon," Remy spoke to both of them, but it was Rogue's hand he caught in his, towing her along on his way to the control station. Once there, he queued the last several minutes of the battle. They all watched the recorded interchange, but hell if Rogue knew what they were watching. "I knew it. Damn." Remy played it again, but Rogue was still in the thickets.

Logan, apparently, was not. "Savate."

Remy grinned smugly at the Canadian. "_Exactement, mon ami_. But she didn' know she was doin' it."

"I don't know what ya'll are talkin' 'bout."

"An' dat,_ chere_, is de point."

"That I don't know is the point?" Rogue tugged her hand free of his and crossed her arms, her look hot enough to melt rubber.

Remy reacted instinctively to soothe. His hand skimmed curls behind her ear, not so careful of her skin since it was a touch lasting not even a second. "When you're fightin', you're usin'_ Savate de Rue_. Dat's a fightin' style, french kickboxing but street, not for pretty competitions, _ouis_? I use it; no way you could jus' watch me and pick it up. Look." He brought the last few moments up again, narrating the master moves she utilized.

"I..don't get it."

"I don't either, me. But, look how easy it is, yeah? You look like you a trained savateur, no?"

They watched, again, as she took her assailants down quickly, efficiently, and pretty damn flexibly."I look kinda bad ass." Remy's low laugh set a small fire in her chest. "But I couldn't repeat it, when you wanted."

Logan crowded close to her other side. "But you can fix cars, diagnose 'em just by listening and no one taught you how to do that."

Both men let her consider the why and wherefore on her own time while they did the same.

* * *

**"I** think that's entirely plausible, Rogue."

"You do?"

Rogue looked so shocked Moira couldn't help but laugh. Reaching out, as she'd often seen both Logan and Gambit do, she touched her hands to the girl's sweater-covered forearm. "I do. Rogue, I'm a geneticist and I've become an expert on behavior and adaptive therapies. But individual mutations are each expressed and experienced so uniquely that the only person who is an expert on a mutation is the person experiencing it. All I ever hoped to do here was help guide you towards a better understanding of how your mutation worked. Ultimately, you've always been the one responsible for figuring out the mechanics of it." When Rogue looked duly horrified, Moira laughed again. "It's sorry I am, Rogue, to be shocking you. But, you've been so uncertain that I didn't think saying we're just throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks was the way to build your confidence."

"I don't guess it woulda been." Rogue's fingers fiddled with the buttery material of her sweater. "So, why now?"

"Because holding back on you was a mistake. Because you're starting to really examine what's happening with you and how your emotions and your physical responses tie in to the way your mutation behaves."

"In essence, Mr. Miyagi, I'm done waxin' the car?"

"Done what?" Moira brushed aside the explanation with an elegant gesture of her hand. "Never mind. The point is, I think you could be right. It seems entirely reasonable that when your instinct is allowed free reign, you aren't fighting the memories you've acquired and that's why you're able to use them. It's not dissimilar to your attempts to turn off the pain," that was Rogue's phrase, she avoided all utterances of pleasure in connection to the flipped-switch of her mutation, "when you absorb in a defensive situation. Your instincts are taking over.

So, yes, I think that the savate training you plan to do with Remy will be very interesting; it could be illuminating if it brings that muscle memory to bear and better incorporates the skills you've gleaned from him. If it does, as your hypothesizing, the next step would absolutely be to explore controlling other mutations that you've absorbed. Even if it doesn't grant you a better understanding of your own mutation, as you're hoping, it might aid you in better controlling powers when you absorb them. I'm looking forward to seeing your progress. You'll keep me posted?"T

"You don' wanna watch and take notes and monitor our heart rates?"

Moira looked just slightly abashed. "I presumed you'd be doing your training in the simulator, in which case all of those things will be monitored."

Quite unexpected to the doctor, Rogue's husky laugh rang out. "Of course it will."

* * *

**"I**t's worse."

"I ain't talkin' 'bout dis wid you, Professor. Not none of you. You wanna talk 'bout whether maybe she needs a break or we pushin' her too hard, you get Rogue in here."

"Remy, we're not trying to exclude her or-"

"But you are, Professor. You want her home? You want me home? Whatever it is, you talk t'Rogue and don't pull me in to keepin' secrets from her. I touch dat girl every day. Every day she take a piece of me inside her. What kinda secrets you t'ink we got between us, hm? I made dat mistake and I ain't makin' it again."

"Remy," Storm's voice was the only one that would have paused him as he pushed away from the desk on which he'd been leaning. This conference call was frustratingly clandestine and well populated except for the most important person, the person they were all discussing. "We do not want to cause her undue stress. That is why we asked you, Logan, and Moira to have this conversation."

"Actually," Moira interceded, her round cultured tones a calm counterpoint to the blasting heat that had been underlying Remy's, "I agree with Gambit."

Gambit didn't react, but the mutants across the pond seemed rather surprised. "Moira, please explain."

"We're not her guardians, we're her doctors, her teachers. As I understand it, her classmates are joining your team and if she were there, she'd be joining as well." Yet another thing no one had shared with Rogue.

Or, Remy. Or Logan, apparently. "What?" Logan's growl pre-empted Remy's. "Your lettin' that lot go on missions?"

"Before Rogue was sent, we'd told you that Scott felt they were ready. They're full-fledged members of the team as of this week."

"As Rogue would be if she were there and not here, no?" Remy underscored Moira's point by repeating it.

The Professor was the one to answer, steepling his hands as he considered. "She would and I understand. We're still treating her like a child yet, she, like many of our students, has not been that for many years. I'll call and speak with her."

"How 'bout we jus' transfer you and get that outta the way right now, yeah?"

Charles looked at Remy, a small smile playing at his mouth. "I believe, if she's available, that would be in the best interest of all parties."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeesh, ya'll rock. Thanks for stickin' with me and the rocky ride. THANK YOU! THANK YOU For the reviews and the follows and just reading. Also, I think we officially have three members of Team Rogue. And expect some sizzle in the next chapter. Happy reading!

_Friends of Humanity_, in the mutant world, is a sort an anti-mutant extremist group.

_Exactement_ is a cognate, so exactly!


	28. Chapter 27: Sugar Rush

**Chapter 27:**

_**"****F**ouetté." _

Rogue executed a whip kick on the dummy in front of her, her foot smacking into the dummy's head with force.

"Not bad, _chere._" Remy moved in line with her. "But watch de weight on your leg." He executed a beautiful kick; Rogue watched with critical concentration before she repeated the move. "Ah, yeah, dat's de way now."

Rogue came back to her ready position; in the rhythm they'd developed, Remy called out another of the essential Savate moves she was learning. "_Chasse Bas_." She twisted her leg, bringing the weight of her kick into the dummy's thigh. "No, no."

Remy moved swiftly enough to catch her foot before it came back to the ground. "Contact here," his hand smacked against her heel. "You got on shoes, that's the hardest part. Not here," fingers tapping the ball of her foot, then releasing her to repeat the move.

"Rogue, your legs are strong. You can do real damage in a hand to hand to fight without takin' on anyone's mutation. Do it again."

"A'right." Rogue's gold dust skin was shiny with sweat, but she dropped back on her toes and danced lightly on them as if she weren't at all fatigued. Savateurs were never still. Remy, Scott—they'd all made the point that she needed to be light on her feet, move fast. She was going to be smaller than most of her opponent; of course, when it came time to resort to her mutation, she had to get close.

On the third time she got a curt nod of the Cajun's head. "Dere we go. " A slow sliding smile moved over Remy's mouth. She was eyeing the dummy rather ferociously. "_Pointe Au Foie/Directe Visage_."

The slim southerner had moved into the combo attack before Remy finished calling it out She slammed her fist into the dummy's face, a move meant to distract and knock a live opponent off balance, and then aimed the point of her foot swiftly at its would-be liver, between the ninth and tenth ribs. Except she missed the liver entirely. "Damnit."

Remy stepped up, his agile fingers stabbing into the dummy. "Right here, _catin_."

"I know where his liver is, Remy. It ain't like Logan didn't make us all learn anatomy til everyone looked like walkin' soft tissue targets," snapped back, irritated with herself for missing.

Her trainer laughed, low and easy. "Then don't miss it again. Go."

And go she did, but still aiming too high. When she missed for the fourth time, Remy waved her off. "Okay. Go through like I'm the dummy."

"Aren't you, bub?" Logan's voice, unwelcomed by the Cajun, preceded the man himself as he stepped into the room.

"Thought you agreed we didn' need you for my trainin' sessions, Logan." Remy looked at Rogue, waving her on with one hand. "Take it slow, Rogue."

Green eyes flickered to Logan, momentarily distracted, before homing in on Remy's red and black stare. Slowly, precisely she made a strike to his head, not doing more than tapping his chin as she all but mimed the motion. Then, her leg came up, but Remy's hand caught it. The other settled on her hip. "It's right here you makin' the mistake. Got to know where you're aimin' before your foot leaves de ground." Adjusting her, he placed her foot against him where she ought to have struck. "You feel de difference?" She nodded, the dark tail of curls swinging. "Do that again. Slow as before."

"Time's 'bout up, Cajun."

Ignoring the verbal sparring that was just beginning, Rogue sent her fist towards Remy's face, then brought her foot up. She only cared when Remy nodded. "_Bon._ Again." As she brought her fist forward, Remy spoke to Logan. "We finish on a good note, Logan, so we finished when she lands dis combo."

"Muay Thai would make more sense for her. Small body, use her elbows and-"

"Not bad. A little low that time. Again." Rogue nodded, pretending as if the secondary conversation didn't exist. "We gonna get t'dat too, Wolverine, but Muay Thai fighters are too—good, good. Again, _catin_—static on dere feet. She needs to remember t'move." His smile was bright and Rogue, as always, was fully distracted when he shined it at her. "Half-speed at de dummy now."

Turning on her toes, she struck for the face and then the liver. "Dat's it. Keep goin'." Again and again she hit. "Full out, Rogue." And she did, twice, before he called it quits. His gloved hand curled around her ponytail and slid down the silk curls with an affectionate tug. "You're getting' dere, _petite."_

Leaning into Remy, Rogue gave him a shoulder bump. "Next thing's your staff, sugar."

Remy kept a straight face. "Anything you want, _chere_," all but purred to her causing her workout flushed face to redden for a far different reason.

With a disgusted sound, Rogue stuck her hand into his smug mug and shoved lightly. "I'm getting' cleaned up, Swamp Rat." With an eye roll for both men, she sauntered off, unwrapping her hands on the way. Of course, the entire reason she put her hand in his face was so she wouldn't have to look at his glowing gaze or the temptation of his mouth. Deciding she'd have to make it a cold shower to shock her brain into behaving, her steps drug as she headed their shared bathroom.

Remy began cleaning up their training paraphernalia, expecting Logan to follow Rogue's lead and exit. When he didn't, he paused to ask, "Did you want somethin' Logan?"

"Not from you," rumbled back.

"Doubt you gonna get what you want from her either, _mon ami."_

Logan's snarl had Remy's muscles tensing, lightly, in preparation for a fight. _Le Bon Dieu,_ he'd like to do some damage to the irritating adamantium can opener, but before either of them got in more than a snarl and a smirk, a voice on the intercom was calling Logan to a phone.

"We ain't done, Gumbo."

That, at least, they could agree on.

* * *

**O**nce he'd finished up, Gambit took his own shower, then gave a perfunctory knock to Rogue's door and stepped in while still toweling his hair dry. "Anna Marie, you look pitiful."

"That's 'cause I hurt," she pouted up at him, then wiggled her toes which made the neon butterflies on her socks flutter.

"Aw, _ma fille,_ let me help you wid dat." She was, he thought, adorable. Sprawled on her bed it looked as if she'd commandeered every kind of heating pad in the facility: handmade rice heating pads wrapped around her neck and snugged against her lower back, a high-tech one draped over a thigh, a regular electric heating pad was pressed to a hip. Then, of course, there was the ice wrapped over one shoulder and a knee.

"I ain't been trainin' you dat hard." Rogue snorted as he pulled her leg into his lap and began kneading the tight muscles under the flannel pants. "What? You goin' soft, you?"

"You ain't here two days a week, sugar, which leaves me with Logan." She arched a brow and scowled balefully at Remy. "Two days, Remy, just me and the Wolverine and that man cain't wait t'get off this island. I think he thinks if he beats me into submission I'll agree to headin' back to New York and he can get on with missions." She shook her head. Professor Xavier had expressed his worry about her mutation and offered for her to come home and keep training. She wasn't quite ready to face the mansion, not when she just seemed to have found equilibrium here. "Then, you come back and it's two daily sessions with Moira, a run, kick-boxing, weight-lifting, blowin' things up—or tryin' not to. Every. Thing. Hurts."

"You'd be goin' on missions too, you know." Remy pressed hard into the arch of her foot, pulling a moan from her that would've made lesser men blush. As it was, he snagged a pillow. Ostensibly, he placed the pillow in his lap to prop her leg up. The glow in his gaze was impossible to dampen or disguise.

"Nope. " Rogue was certain of this. "_I'd_ be gettin' m'head examined by Jean and the Professor. _You'd_ be goin' on missions."

"We're a team. I go where you go_, catin_."

"No one's sendin' me undercover, Remy, and that's where you excel. Be nice if it worked like that, but…." Rogue trialed off on a lengthy sigh as his strong hands kept working her aching muscles.

"You need a break?"

"I get a break on Sunday."

"You need a bigger break?"

Rogue shook her head, curls rumpling on the pillow behind her. "Naw. Not yet, anyway. Oh, Gawd. Right there. Whatever you just did…mmmmhmm," affirmation was a low-throated hum and the thick fringe of her lashes fluttered down over her eyes.

Remy couldn't help but watch the play of pleasure-pain on her face He pressed his thumb to a particular spot on her foot and she whimpered. He might've been a thief, a killer, a liar, and a rake, but he was makin' inroads towards heaven by not crawling up the length of her and promising her he had plenty of other ways to make her moan.

Remy knew exactly what he wanted from the petite green-eyed minx going liquid under his hands. He knew, too, that she wanted something similar from him. But similar wasn't good enough. Dragging air into his lungs burned, but he did it. He found the will to speak, not proposition, though his voice was a sensual stroke to the senses, "Here, bébé?"

Rogue issued another low hum that shot straight to his groin. "You should fuck her already."

Remy's head snapped up. "Fuck who-" Shock was superseded by understanding. "Katya." Green eyes were feline slits, aware of the tension between their two bodies in a way Rogue never acknowledged openly, probably didn't understand was completely mutual.

"This girl of yours is sexually frustrated and that means so is everyone else. I'll even tuck back in so you can have your privacy." Rogue's voice, just a hint defensive and throaty, was contained and purring . "Not that anything with her is _private_, but I promise not to take over. Even though it is certain to be unsatisfying and awkward." Katya shifted, her foot sliding under the pillow and against the proof of Gambit's own frustrations. "After all, you can't touch her skin for long and the most erotic experience of her life was your kiss. Although, she could give you an orgasm without any effort at all. No wonder you've put in so much effort."

"_Assez._ Katya. Let her go now." Delicately handling the foot near his own delicate parts, Remy scooted out from under Rogue's legs.

"Will you at least finger-fu—"

Remy was on top of her suddenly, pinning Rogue to the bed with his larger body. A gloved hand covered her mouth, careful of Rogue's skin. "I said enough. She's not here for your amusement. And neither am I. Give her back."

In answer, hips lifted beneath his and rolled. "Are you sure you want her back right this second?"

"I don't want you, Katya. An' unlike with you, I don't just want her body. _Comprends?_"

There was a hiss of venom and then she rolled up, grinding hard against him, one of her legs sneaking free and hooking around his hip to lock them together.

The hand on her both ducked to a hip, to push her away. _"Salope!"_

"What? Remy?"

And there she was. His heart tripped into his throat. "Not you, Anna Marie. _Dieu,_ you give me a scare." Dipping his head, he touched their foreheads together with the fringe of her bang as barrier.

"Mist," said so softly, her breath mingling with his. Their bodies, still pressed tightly together told that story. "Remy?"

Loosening his grip, shifting his weight to his elbows, he cupped her face carefully in her hands. "I just need a minute."

And she gave him that, lying flush on her bed, his red on black eyes intent on hers. She didn't know what he saw when she changed, but he always seemed so shaken and relieved when she returned. "Okay, that's better. We're better."

She felt the brush of his lips through her hair, a kiss to her forehead, a benediction. Then, his weight shifted as he made to get up. But Rogue tightened the leg at his hip, brought her hands down to press at his waist. "Wait."

Remy knew she could feel his arousal and he knew lingering in this position was pushing his restraint to its limits, but he didn't exactly want to go now that it was his Anna beneath him.

Once she felt him settle again, her eyes slid away from the burning intensity of his. "What's it like when I-when I go away?"

"Depends on who takes over."

She didn't respond immediately and his fingers began threading through the thick tangle of her hair. "What do you mean?"

"Means when it's Logan I kinda wanna kick your ass, but you're too damn cute when you say bub and grab a cigar." Her nose wrinkled and she stuck her tongue out at him. He'd intended to make her smile. She made him grin instead. "Scott never sticks for long and Piotr is always just a flash. Mostly I just miss you."

She nodded, bumping their foreheads together lightly. He could feel her fingers pulling and folding his shirt, one of her nervous habits. They breathed together for a while before she peeked back at him. "And when it's Mist?"

"Ah. She's…."

Rogue tipped her hips into his and Remy's body went almost preternaturally still. "You like it," a whisper.

"No." He ignored the pressure of their bodies together, the need, the craving that was carving him hollow. "No. It's the part of her that's still you that does that t'me, Anna Marie. It's your body and your face. She knows dat. She knows what I want, _ange,_ better than you do, I think." It was a big confession, more than he thought she was ready to hear. Then again, maybe her response was more than he was ready to face.

But a slow, sweet smile tilted her lips. "Sugar, you live inside m'head. I know exactly what you want."

Remy could hear the tease in her voice and, regrettably, feel her leg slide from his hip. "Oh, you think so?"

"Mmhmm. You wanna run down and get us some chocolate cake. Cause I was just takin' over by your nasty nymphomaniac of an ex and I could use the sugar rush."

She smiled, sweet and sly, and Remy gave her a smacking hard kiss on her mouth. Ah, how he wanted more. "Dis one time, _chere_, you right. I got me a _envie_ for a little somethin' sweet my own self."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I was gonna wait a couple days to post this, until I had the next chapter underway, but then there were 100 favs and I thought: CELEBRATE! With this celebration, I give you a challenge: NAME THIS CHAPTER! I got nothin', friends, but thought your wonderfully creative brains might come up with a nifty chapter title that isn't just "Chapter 27". Comment and share and then I'll pick one!

And, despite Rogue being a bit fallaparty, I think the two of them are stronger and closer for the two week silent treatment because lying thing. I hope you think so too. Hope you all are doing wonderfully and enjoying the reading and, as always, I love, love, love your comments and support and enthusiasm! And, and, and—that's it! I think!

**Update 10-27:** Thanks for the suggestions! I decided to go with sugar rush 'cause cake and kisses and, as you all pointed out, Remy had his own little rush.


	29. Chapter 28: Liar

**Chapter 28: Liar**

**A**n _envie_ that wasn't going to be sated any time soon. Sitting in Cass's bed, the sheet tangled over his hips, waiting for her to return with the pizza being delivered, Remy thought of Rogue. These interludes with Cass were a fun distraction, but every time they rendezvoused it added weight to the guilt he carried between the two women in his life.

He was in love with Anna Marie. In love in the romantic-comedy, big-gesture, die-of-old-age-in-the-same-bed-at-the-same-time, could imagine having a tiny daughter with red hair and green eyes and eventually walking her down the aisle, really unfortunate kind of way. He didn't want to die for her, his Anna Marie, though he would if it came down to it; Remy Etienne LeBeau wanted to live for her.

But it was Cass with her blue-streaked hair and multi-pierced ears that strolled into the room with hot pizza and cold beer. It was Cass he smiled at, lying naked in sheets that smelled of them both. When he stretched his gloved hand out, Cass's skin was warm and smooth and posed no complications. Hell, Cass herself posed no complications.

"You should tell her." The Scot looked at him speculatively, then opened the box of pizza and pulled out a slice. The two cold beers she passed to him to open, actions speaking familiarly between them.

"I can't." Remy untwisted the tops and passed one back to his lover before pulling out a slice of pizza for himself.

"You're in love with her." Cass nudged his naked thigh with her bare toes. Remy leveled a look, then bit into his pizza in silence. "You are. You want a proper relationship with her. You want candles and flowers and to hold hands while walking down a moonlit beach. You worship the ground she walks on."

"An' here I thought I'd been worshippin' your very fine body, _chere_."

Cass's laugh was easy and appreciative. "You certainly have, Red Eyes. But we both know you're starting to feel guilty about it."

"For what? Havin' great sex with you? Mm. _Non, chere_. I just feel damn good about that." Lie. He knew it was a lie. Cass knew it was a lie. Somehow, in the weeks they'd known each other, they'd become friends. Remy had slowly told her about Anna Marie and Cass had told him about her fiancé, killed on an icy road, a no-fault car accident. Cass could talk about Cheryl without hurting Remy and Remy could finally say out loud all of his impossible feelings for his best friend.

"It doesn't hurt me, so why pretend?" Tossing her crust into the box, she slipped over Remy to straddle his hips. Almost automatically, his hands slid under the slim tee she'd donned to answer the door. "I'd miss this. I'd miss our conversations more. But, I know I'm not the only woman you're sleeping with to cope with the fact that you can't have the one woman you want. I also know you don't think of her when you're with me; don't pretend she's the one in this bed with you. But you don't think of much else otherwise."

Remy's hands played along her stomach, drifting idly upward. "You so sure, _chere?_"

"Oh, I am. Because I am a fantastic lover." Remy laughed and she kissed the curve of his sculpted mouth. "Because you like and respect me. But, mostly, because your Rogue is…sacred. What you have with her, you have only with her."

"Mmm."

Cass pressed her palms to his cheeks, rough from his skipped morning shave. "Convince her. Show her. Before it's too late and someone else does." There was a pause and the playful girl with the edge, with the ring of metal over her ear and blue-dipped hair was a woman with regret and pain. "Or worse, Remy."

Remy cupped Cass's breasts in his palms and took her mouth, ending the conversation and any thought between the two but pleasure. He left her sleeping in a slant of afternoon sunlight, but her words wouldn't leave his mind as he wound his way back to Muir Island and Anna Marie.

* * *

**W**hile Remy was being taken to task, Anna Marie herself was, perhaps, a little lost in thought and possibility. Trying to untangle her emotions privately—or as privately as a girl with a small gallery of psyches listening in on every thought could—she rounded a corner and smacked her face off of something sharp and hard. Bouncing back into the wall, she steadied whatever she'd about run over only to find herself face to face with The Chef. Remy's chef. Remy's I-will-stare-at-you-until-you-die cook who might at any moment resort to poisoning her. Or perhaps she'd brought one of those large chef axes. Chefs had axes, right? Rogue's hands tightened reflexively on the other woman's arms while rich dark eyes seemed to lacerate rather than look at her.

"Oh, I, now, goodness. I'm just so sorry." Rogue patted and straightened, babbling as her words got at once more Southern and more speedy. "You look a'right. You didn't hurt yourself none, did you? I was just not watchin' where I was goin'. All in my head, you know? But, I think you're just fine. I mean, you look real lovely today. That's a great shade of blue on you. And breakfast! Well, you just out did yourself. I wish I could make-"

"I didn't prepare your breakfast."

Rogue's hands dropped to her sides, fidgeted, then shoved into her pockets. "Oh, well, your breakfasts are always delicious." She trailed off, still standing entirely too close to the willowy chef. "Sorry about knockin' into you like that I was just-"

"In your head. Or maybe someone else was?" The sharp barb was completely unexpected. Rogue felt like a fish with a hook in its mouth; sure, this was bad, but it could get so much worse so fast. The chef, however, seemed satisfied with Rogue's silence—or unimpressed by it, at least—and marched away, leaving Anna Marie gawping after her.

"Hey, kid."

Rogue jumped about a foot, knocked her head on the wall again, and cursed. "Damn it, Logan! Why you sneakin' up on me?" Rubbing her head, green eyes cast daggers at the offending man.

Amusement curled his lips as he regarded the petite would-be assassin. "You were staring after the chef like you wanted to take a bite out of her."

"I think she took a bite out of me."

"You put yourself in snapping distance by pretending to be Gumbo's Girl Friday."

As he wasn't wrong, she simply tipped her head, still rubbing at the sore spot. Which, of course, only made it sting worse. "Were you just creepin' up to say hi or was there something else going on?"

"The Cajun Kid is off-island. Thought we could order pizza, watch a movie."

A smile tugged one side of her mouth. "_McClintock! _again?" The Wolverine, he liked his westerns.

"I was thinkin' _The Canadians_."

Rogue bounced on her toes. "Oh! I love that one!"

"You seen it?"

"Not exactly." Green eyes peered up at him through a fringe of cinnamon lash. "_You_ have."

Logan's laugh rumbled, vibrating against her as he slung an arm over slim shoulders and headed her in the direction of the sitting room. But she twisted, looking back down the deserted hall. "Remy an' I are the only ones down this way."

"I know, kid. Moira figures you like your privacy."

"No. I mean, yes, we do._ I_ do." The best mutation would be to delete the last ten seconds of her life and reboot. This was hardly the first situation she'd have used it on. "Remy and I are the only _occupied_ rooms down here. So what was the chef doin'?"

"Maybe she was going to surprise Gumbo. Crazy women seem to gravitate to him." A pause and a sidelong look to his companion. "He got a vibrating penis or something?"

Rogue's elbow slammed into an adamantium rib. Wolverine grunted for her benefit, then grinned down at the dual-haired spitfire as she scowled and rubbed her elbow. She snarled at his smile, though Logan was probably not wrong about the chef's motivation. Apparently the fact that she and Remy had reconstructed their relationship wasn't putting a dint in the hope renewed by their falling out.

"Or we could watch _Billy Jack_."

Anna-Marie leaned into the solid warmth beside her, letting thoughts of Fatal Attraction: Chef Edition fade. "Only if we can say the best lines along with the movie."

"'Course, kid."

Which is how Gambit heard the Wolverine singing "They Call the Wind Mariah." _The Canadians_ had turned into _Billy Jack_ which finally turned into _Paint Your Wagon!_ Rogue, using a latent power she had in regards only to the hairy Canadian, had conned the beast into singing for her and Remy was now faced with a serious conundrum: He wanted to interrupt and mock Merry Old Claws, but Rogue was smiling-all bright eyed and easy, no shadows mucking around the edges. Her joy washed out and over him, practically made him buoyant; even the embarrassment he could cause the Wolverine wasn't worth interrupting that.

Once Logan stopped singing and reached one of his brawler's hands out to brush a strand of curling white back from her face, though, Remy slipped into the room. "Pizza? I could eat."

Rogue glanced up, her nose wrinkling. "That was lunch, sugar. We ain't made dinner plans yet."

"Could order more. Watch another movie. What's that one you like, Rogue, the one with the music?"

Remy caught the sharpening of Wolverine's gaze and knew the older man understood him perfectly. Rogue, on the other hand, was regarding him with suspicion in her muddy green eyes. "You wanna watch a musical?"

"Ah, _petite_, I jus' want t'make you happy, _oui_? And you, you like musicals." Slipping his arm over her shoulder, he skimmed a couple of gloved fingertips along the sensitive skin just below her ear.

"I've had about all the layin' around I can take." Wolverine shoved up. "I'll find my own dinner."

When he was gone, well and truly gone, Rogue swatted Remy's thigh. "Why cain't you two get along?"

"We used t'get along, _chere_." Rogue snorted and Remy's smile curled slowly. "Now, now, _ange_, we did, me an' him. Bumped into each other from time t'time and ain't had no cause to fight."

Anna Marie crossed her arms and angled her stubborn chin upwards. "Then what changed?"

Remy leaned towards her, using the arm curled at her strong shoulders to draw her in. Excitement was a live wire between them, sparking and dancing wildly. "Everything, Anna Marie."

"But why?" Her sassy southern voice was more whisper as she struggled to keep her eyes on his and not drifting to his mouth.

Remy's knuckles brushed against her cheek and for once his devil may care gaze, aglow, seemed somber. "Ah, _chere_, that's one of them things I don't know you wanna hear."

Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't, all Rogue could think was: _Kiss me._ If he did, she wasn't taking a risk. If he did, then—

"Hey, heard there was pizza?" Shane's voice cut through the quiet, through the anticipation.

At least, one of them thought it did, the other not so much."There ain't. Go away."

Less certain, Rogue dipped her chin, broke eye contact. "We had that for lunch. Why don't we make tacos?" She was up and away in seconds, but Remy had other ideas.

"Not without me,_ petite_. Me, I love tacos."

Rogue hid her smile by not looking at the Cajun. Still, when he joined her side and laced their fingers together, Remy felt the buzz, his and hers, not quite at equal frequency. Not yet.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey, again. Hope you enjoyed this little interlude. And confession. Well, self-confession anyway. Remy has known how he's felt for awhile. Rogue, eh, not so much. Thanks, as always, for the likes, follows, reads, and reviews!

P.S. I have not forgotten that Remy still has a chit to call-in, lest you thought I had. Or he had. Rogue maybe has. But the rest of us? Nah.


	30. Chapter 29: Swagger

**Chapter 29:** Swagger

**R**ogue could only imagine how difficult meditation was with only one single brain pattern mucking up the silence. Add a dozen other people's thoughts and there were days it was near impossible. Which also made it all the more necessary. She needed to build those muscles just like the others, though she preferred combat training and weight lifting to the solitude of building mental walls and learning to quiet her mind.

Truth was, she even preferred learning to control Remy's secondary abilities-his empathy and that other un-named one that worked so well on the opposite sex.

They'd never directly discussed what he could do, but then they did they need to? It crawled along her veins with every touch; Anna Marie knew his secondary abilities intimately. Controlling them, however, was almost as difficult as controlling her own. Almost only because she also had Remy's muscle memory, so to speak. Her learning curve with his mutation, the way to control already mapped, was far better than with her own. As of now, she could switch both of his secondary mutations off. It wasn't the nuanced control the Louisanian had, but it was already more than she could do with the one inborn. And wouldn't that much control make her ecstatic? To shut it down. Just off. Just nothing. No one's mind pouring into hers, no one's abilities or life force. No risk from human contact.

Sighing, Rogue fell back on the mat; eyes closed, arms flung over her head, she finished finally uncrossed her legs so they splayed.

"And they said you were busy."

Rogue cracked one eye open to find Leah, Leah from That Morning, Leah who'd offered to be life sucked again because Rogue's mutation had—_Focus, Anna Marie._ Leah was smiling wryly at her curious positioning. "I am. Meditating. Can't you see me entering a higher mental plane? I'm practically a yogi."

Leah's laugh was quick and sharp. She offered a hand to haul Rogue up; as she was wearing gloves, Anna Marie accepted. Once on her feet, she frowned. "I don't mean t'be rude, but what do you want with me?"

"That….is quite the question, considering." Rogue all but snatched her hand out of Leah's and the other woman shrugged. "Sorry. Pretty girl, packs quite a…punch. Hard to resist hitting on you, even if you are with the guy with the demon eyes." Rogue continued to stare with her own green gaze murky and narrowed. Leah made a sort of clicking sound with tongue. "Right. I wanted to invite you to a club opening. My club opening, down the village."

"Why?"

"Well, I need people to show." Leah's smile, while bright, suddenly looked a little too self-aware. "Pretty girl thing again, can't hurt to have eye candy. And, I'm inviting everyone from the institute. My brother insisted-Moira helped him. But I thought you might be the kind to dodge social events if given the chance. Thought if I invited you personally it might make it tougher to decline."

"It doesn't."

"Fair enough." Apparently unfazed by the rejection, Leah watched her for several more seconds. " I will leave you to your….whatever you were doing. See ya 'round, Rogue."

Rogue was still puzzling over the exchange when Remy's voice reached across the room and sent her to shivering. "I think we should go, _chere."_

"Eavesdroppin' again, Swamp Rat?"

"_Non_," a slow drawl, speculating since she'd gone spikey so quickly, "but now I wish I had. Bumped into Leah on my way t'you. Miss anythin' good, _petite?"_

Rogue shrugged and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Nothing." He didn't buy that for a minute, so Rogue went on. "She invited us to her club's openin'."

"Anythin' else?"

A gloved hand fisted, propped on her hip as sassy Southerner whipped around to face him. "What do you know or think you know?"

"I think she likes you, _chere_." When Rogue continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes but heat crawling up her neck, he chuckled low. "_Catin_, you a pretty girl and Leah, she likes pretty girls. Cain't fault her for that, me."

"She thinks I'm you're girlfriend."

"Want I should challenge her for darin' to like you den?" His smile was broad, flashing strong white teeth and making him look impossibly charming.

Rogue growled. "Just go away."

Of course he didn't. He teased her straight through training, rattling her at every opportunity but she held on, controlling his mutation throughout. Which led, as she splayed back on the floor just as Leah had found her, only sweatier, to his tapping her thigh and saying: "I think we should go out," Remy noticed the way she stilled, even stopped breathing, "and have you try out my mutation on some strangers. Some humans. See how you do."

"Field test?"

"_Ouis."_

"You think I'm ready for the field?" She sat up suddenly, putting them almost shoulder-to-shoulder.

Remy curved his hand over her thigh, squeezed lightly. "I think you ready to try it out. 'Course, it goes well, we gonna have t'have you try someone else's and see if controlin' mine helps you control theirs." Not that he liked the idea of Rogue and skin-to-skin contact with anyone that wasn't him, not when he knew she was set on giving people an option. Pain or pleasure? It was cake or death, damnit, and who would deliberately choose death?

* * *

**O**verriding his own objections, and Logan's, had them preparing for a night on the mainland. Naturally, Remy he had an idea about how the evening should progress; one he wasn't sharing until they were nearly at their destination lest Rogue try to dodge it.

Even with that planning, she balked. "Really? We go in separate, like we don't know each other and you, what? You pick me up? Why're you pickin' me up in a bar?"

"Because, _chere_," Remy explained patiently, "you spend most your time avoidin' people. Wanna run you through the flirtation, through havin' my mutation in your head and your hands in a crowd while I'm close enough to help."

It made sense, unfortunately. All she could do was agree: "Fine."

"You got a take a little, _catin_. The goal is control."

Biting down on a protest, she lifted her hands to his face. She wore gloves, of course, but two fingertips on each hand were bare. Remy had been adamant that the risk of an accidental brush was better than her accidentally charging the gloves and having them explode over her hands.

Despite the easy access, Remy had other ideas. Catching her hands in his, he murmured, "No need." Then leaned forward to brush his cheek lightly over hers. Skimming hair back with un-gloved fingertips he traced the shell of her ear and let his breath warm her cheek as he whispered. "Just a touch, Anna Marie."

Before her eyes had turned completely, he allowed her to retreat. She was wearing something short and leather, a skirt he hadn't even known she owned. In fact, he'd been trying not to think of what she was wearing the entire time they'd been travelling. First on the boat, then on the bike with her thighs cradling his hips and her body pressed tightly to his back.

She'd paired the leather with a deep violet top made of something nearly as soft as her skin. It flowed over her, tissue paper thin. She'd topped it with a cropped jacket to cover more skin and tough little boots with heels that slouched around her ankles. She looked….different. She still smelled of apples.

When he followed her in, he found her immediately, though he never looked her way. In fact, in those first moments he was busy doing a quick assessment of exits, threats, and, out of habit, potential targets. It had him smiling as he edged next to the pretty girl at the bar with the wind-wild tangle of red and white curls. Catching the bartender's attention he ordered himself a beer and ignored the pretty _femme_ at his elbow.

He crowded her and ignored her through most of his long-neck. He knew she was preparing to act when a sound more snarl than sigh escaped her. Rogue's gambit for his attention was to bump her glass and spill it down his pants. He could see her eyes gleaming as she feigned a gasp of shock. "Why, my goodness, I am so sorry." Snagging a napkin from the bar, she patted ineffectually at his pants-well, it was ineffectual at getting any of the water up anyway. "I'm just a mess, is what I am." She offered him a contrite smile, all big eyes and flushed cheeks, and he thought: _Fuck. She didn't need any practice_.

"_Non, chere_, please. They'll dry." He smiled, bright and crooked. "Let me buy you another, me?"

"I should be buyin' you a drink, sugar, or payin' to get your pants off—Cleaned! Of course I mean cleaned."

Remy very nearly snorted. Using her natural tendencies to purpose, was she? "Oh, I think mebbe we could arrange that. Etienne."

Anna Marie eyed the hand he offered with his name before sliding hers into it. "Raven. "

For the next fifteen minutes "Raven" flirted easily with him, brushing her hand on his arm or thigh, giving a husky laugh whenever he made a joke. Remy was wondering if maybe Raven could come out t'play more often. And although he was certain she was as ready as she was going to be to handle his mutation among strangers, he couldn't resist slipping an arm around her waist. "Dance wid me, Raven."

Rogue was there, hesitant, her mouth opening, and waited for her to call their charade quits. Then, she surprised him. "After you been so kind, Etienne, I'd just love t'dance with you."

She thought it was a mistake as soon as their bodies slid together. This wasn't polite, society dancing. Not the kind of dancing they were forced to learn at the mansion, not the square dancing her high school gym teacher had taught them before she'd left Meridian. This was Remy LeBeau at his seductive best. His hands were warm as they pressed against her, his body strong and solid. She felt the brush of his cheek like a kiss, layering more of his power into her at the same time.

"You're a beautiful woman, Raven." His throaty voice purred at her ear and she felt the slip of his knee between her legs. Rogue tipped her head back, searching out those glowing red-and-black eyes, hoping to read the joke there. But her gloved fingers slid into the silk of his hair and he closed his eyes, something akin to a moan of pleasure vibrating between them.

Her heart pounded. She knew he could feel it. When his head angled, his lips barely a breath from hers, she wasn't sure if they were still playing the game or not. She knew, though, that she wanted him. Wanted the taste of him, the heat of him, the impossible rush of need and lust and hope. He always felt like hope.

"Anna," her name sounded desperate and reverent. One of his hands fisted in her jacket, the other tightened at her hip. He drew her up, up on her toes and leaned further. Her eyes were closed when a sharp elbow slammed into her ribs and a heavy body knocked them sideways. Remy turned them quickly out of the path of the drunk, the stranger's apology lost in the rush of blood to her head. Pasting on a sassy smile that was as fake as the name she'd given him earlier, Anna Marie said, "So, how'd I do, Cajun?"

Remy's expression was impossible to read in the dark of the bar, though his eyes burned. "Good. Never slipped, even when you were distracted. You think you need to go again?"

_Absolutely not_. She didn't want to try again and then again with his eyes glowing over her own. So they sat and they waited, listening to the music, legs brushing as they leaned on the bar. No end of women—and not a few men —looked over Remy but he was the least inviting Rogue had ever see him.

Eventually, Remy leaned into her, his hand gripping her stool and his fingers negligently rubbing along the outside of her thigh. "All right, _chere,_ see da man at the table? He got two friends? Yeah, you get him." Rogue nodded but, as she made to stand, Remy's warm fingers stayed her progress by simply brushing her thigh where the skirt had edged up. "Just don't get so close with him as you did to Etienne, eh _chere?_"

Rogue couldn't hear the laughter in his rich voice but figured her own nerves were blocking her perception of nuances. It all seemed just a little bit more cloudy when Remy slid his fingers inside the cuff of her shirt, his thumb—bare and lightly calloused—stroking against the soft skin of her wrist. She could feel him seeping through her skin, watched his jaw clench—he'd asked for the pain and it didn't feel good, this drawing out of power and self—as the body connected to hers fought instinctively, futilely.

They drew away as if they had prearranged the moment. Remy's eyes looked heavy, sleepy; it simply increased the impression that he was on his way to or from a bedroom. He lifted his hand, skimming the tips of gloved fingers over her cheek. "My eyes look good on you, _chere_."

"Don't fall out of your seat, Cajun." Rogue turned and—_Dieu!—_sauntered towards her target. When she leaned over the table Remy could imagine the way her breasts swayed under the too thin material and the scent of her hair as she eased it back, exposing the slim line of her neck. He'd bet her nipples were still hard. "_Merde."_

"That does not sound good, handsome. Buy you a drink?"

A blonde had sidled up to him and a pretty one to boot. If Rogue weren't across the room seducing a mark with his mutation—no doubt a boon she didn't need—he'd—Nah. If Rogue weren't in the bar, on the continent, so Goddamn tangled up in his blood he'd have the blonde in an alley or the bathroom in ten minutes. It'd be rough and hard and she'd tell her friends it was the best she'd ever had; if he weren't busy watching over the petite southerner and took this woman to an alley or a room, he'd just close his eyes so he didn't have to see that the woman he was about to bury himself in wasn't the woman he wanted.

"Sorry, _chere,_ watchin' my _fille_ flirt with another man."

Nonplussed, the woman moved away.

* * *

**R**ogue had gained a seat, a drink and found the longer she was the there the easier it was to act like Remy. When the mark's hand came up to brush one wild curl back from her face she caught it, rubbed a glove covered thumb over the pads of his fingers in lieu of a kiss, then settled his palm on her thigh. "So, what do you do anyway, honey?"

"Security guard." He smiled. He had nice brown eyes, nicer when he smiled. "Oh, yeah? You wear a uniform?" He nodded, his smile widening. "Me, I'm a sucker for a uniform. I especially like" she bit her lip, shot a look across the table at his friends, then leaned into whisper the last directly into his ear, "the idea of bein' caught by a man in a uniform. You ever fantasized 'bout catchin' a pretty little robber in'a compromisin' position?"

Before he could answer a hand landed on the back of her neck. It was gloved and the spice accompanying it was familiar. "There you are, _chere."_

Rogue glanced up; she made sure, before meeting Remy's gaze, to cool the charm she'd been pouring over the man with his fingers inching up her leg. Something in the pressure from Remy's hand or the way his eyes blazed at her, knocking out the impression of the smile he wore, urged her to her feet as she introduced him to her companion. "This here's the brother I mentioned."

"You told 'em I was your brother?" Rogue's glance went pointed and he was reminded that they were sharing the same eyes at the moment. So he continued as if that hadn't been his entire objection. "And he still had his hand half-way to your—

"_C'est assez!"_ Rogue snapped.

"Just say _adieu_ to your friends."

Rogue eyes were daggers. Scott's lazer gaze had nothin' on hers. Then, for a moment, her control slipped. She was watching him, but leaning down with a whiskey-rough laugh that he'd never heard before. "Big Brother's in a foul mood. Why don't I just get your number and -"

The man reached for a pen but Remy's smile was blade sharp, stilling the mans' hand, as he said, "You don't need it, _homme_, 'less you also don't need your fingers."

Remy's hold on her arm never loosed as he drug Rogue out of the bar. "Did you just turn my own mutation on me?" He demanded almost the second they'd left the club.

"What?" Rogue yanked her arm free. "God, Remy, what the hell kind of accusation is that? If you got a hint of it it's cause you got in my way." She kept storming as he drug her into an alley, presumably to argue without anyone watching. "You are a dirty, foul Cajun and I don't know why you're so damn pissed off when I was just doin' exactly what— "

Remy's hands were suddenly on her hips, pushing her into the brick wall, as his mouth crashed into hers. This was not finesse. It was hard and hungry and, unfortunately, brutally short. "The point was to be in control, _mon Coeur_," his voice, somehow calling to mind rumpled silk sheets, was all but a whisper. "You lost control so you don't get to play with strangers no more."

Control? She thought he'd lost his damn mind. Or maybe she had. He had her pressed into a brick wall but he wasn't touching her, aside from fingertips on her hips. He was _so close_ and not close enough. "So you want me to play with you, that it, Cajun?"

"With you, _chere_, I ain't playin'."

She was hurt by the rejection and later she'd say that was why she pushed her body flush against his, lifting her chin as she tilted her hips into what she thought of as evidence to the contrary. "_Non?_ Feels like maybe you want to."

Cool silence greeted the bold action, his eyes burning down into hers even as she felt her temper burning away the hold of his power and his personality. That swerving, staggering sexuality of his was ebbing, the hint of crackling energy that seemed poised at her fingertips after every encounter was receding, fading into her veins and going quiet. Embarrassed, aroused, and pissed off—she could hold onto that latter to deal with the other two—she pulled hard to get free and bumped her head onto the wall behind her. "Ouch. Shit."

His hand was cradling her head in the next moment but she could no longer look at his glowing eyes, so she let her gaze drop as he checked her head. Or she thought he did. But then it felt like his fingers simply drifted through her hair.

"Look at me." She ignored the whisper, the way it crackled through her just like his power. "C'mon, _chere_, look at me."

Slowly, slowly she lifted her gaze. Now when he looked at her, the green was burning away the overlay of his own irregular iris and sclera. "What?"

"I want to touch you, Anna Marie. Want to taste you and hold you and have you so bad I wake up in a cold sweat some nights. But not when you got my eyes and my need pushing you to do anything you don't want. And, no, _chere_, when I touch you, it ain't never a game." He looked at her for one more long moment before he closed the distance, sealing her mouth with his own.

It was over too quick. She'd touched her tongue to his bottom lip, she'd felt the briefest brush as their bodies came together, and then he was several feet away. She was watching his back as he left her. Except, he turned, tilted a brow, "You comin'?" He held his hand out for her to take and her choice was inevitable.

* * *

**Author's Note:** You guys! Thanks for all of the kind words. And all of the reads, follows, and favorites! You are amazing! That is my quota for exclamation points, so I will calmly say that I know some of you are frustrated with Remy acknowledging that he loves her, but still sleeping around. What's a Cajun heartthrob t'do though? Things Are Happening, soon, though, I promise. The next several chapters will probably be kickin' in a lot of action. I hope you all keep enjoying!


	31. Chapter 30: Gotta Know

**Chapter 30: Gotta Know**

**M**uzzy from a too-heavy sleep, Rogue stretched and then her eyes opened slowly. She knew Remy wasn't in bed with her. When he was, they were always tangled together—his legs looped through hers or her cheek on his chest. But she didn't feel entirely alone either. Slitting one sleep swollen eye-lid, she peered into the dim light casting more shadows than illuminating darkened corners. Remy was getting dressed, pulling a pair of pants up his thighs and over his—he wasn't planning on wearing underwear today, apparently. Rogue very nearly swallowed her tongue and must have made some sound because his voice, smoky and smiling (she could hear the smile) preceded the slight turn of his head in the direction of the bed. "Good morning, Sleepin' Beauty." The drag of a zipper resounded in the otherwise quiet space before he turned, long fingers still fastening the fly of his dark washed jeans.

"Mmrph." Remy's chuckle made her tingle which in turn made her scowl. Heat pooled low in her belly and those quick, raw moments in the alley came back with the startling clarity of someone who had two memories of the event.

They hadn't spoken, of course, with her tucked into his back, as they'd driven to the hotel they'd taken for the night. They hadn't spoke in the elevator or in the room. The silence was charged as they'd slid into bed, as he'd pulled her close.

Remy watched cloudy, sleep heavy green eyes grow remote, the little Southerner getting lost in her head. Prowling towards the big bed, his focus was on the slim body only half covered by the down comforter. When he reached her side, he put one knee on the bed and let his fisted hands rest on either side of her ribs.

"Eloquent," said of her inarticulate morning greeting. Long lashes fluttered rapidly and her gaze sharpened from swamp bracken murk; he very slowly and very deliberately lowered. She could have turned away. There was plenty of time for her to think about turning away. Neither of them closed their eyes as he brushed their lips together once, twice, and then touched their noses before drawing just enough away to let air skim between them. "There you are, beautiful."

Small, gloved hands tensed and relaxed repeatedly on the bedspread. She had morning breath. Stupid. Of course she did, but how many mornings had they woken up together? It didn't matter. His lashes looked ombre dyed from dark brown at the base to a near cinnamon at the tip. "Goo—" Her voice cracked. While she turned her head to clear her throat Remy stayed leaned over her, his mint-flavored breath washing her cheek. "Good mornin'," whispered back eventually.

He wanted to linger. He wanted to sink into a long kiss, slide his hands through the tangled mess of her hair, and stroke her sleep-flushed skin. But more than that, he wanted this—no, last night, he wanted last night to mark the beginning of something more. He'd told everyone, including himself, that she was just a friend. There would be nothing else. There was nothing else. He'd known for awhile now it wasn't true; he hoped she did now too.

Remy did relent, easing a hip onto the bed though one hand settled along the curve of her waist, the strong bow of her rib. "Water should be hot, _chere_, if you want another shower 'fore we go." They'd both washed off the smell of cigarettes last night and gone to bed skin-damp and quiet. She'd looked wary then too and he'd soothed her, as he did now, with touch. Stroking along her side, he leaned further away from the temptation of freckle-scattered skin and a mouth he knew to taste sweet and feel like silk. "Thought we'd have breakfast before we brave the cold and a trip on an open boat, _ouis?_" When she nodded instead of spoke, he bit back a sigh. "Anna Marie, if you want me to go away say so, but don't jus' stare at me with those big, wounded eyes 'cause they make me wanna scoop you up and-"

"They're not wounded! I'm not wounded!" She pushed up which pushed him back as well. "I'm…thinking. My eyes are contemplative."

He couldn't help the snap of a grin at her indignation or the throbbing ache of desire from her morning rough voice and the view of soft cotton hugging unfettered curves; curves he'd had pressed up against him all night. "And what are you contemplatin', Anna Marie?" Gloved fingers tucked a wayward curl behind an ear and he watched her cheeks, still warm from sleep, brighten.

"What….this means. What you meant. What—"

"What you want, mebbe?"

"Remy, I-"

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushed her lower lip. "Don't, _chere_. Don't apologize or dissect it. Friends first, _petite_, and period. When you want anything else form me, you only have t'ask." Her heart was racing and her breath ran a little uneven as it washed over his thumb. He could feel the burn of her desire like a fire under his skin.

"Remy, I think I want—"

_Fuck._ "_Non._ You gotta know." He leaned his forehead against hers and his own breathing was ragged. "You gotta _know, _Anna Marie."

* * *

**K**now what though? Know the fuck what? Rogue slammed a fist into the heavy bag Logan held for her. Know that she wanted all the unreasonably sexy things she was sure he could do to her even without being able to touch her skin? Know that she dreamed about him in lurid detail every night so sometimes she woke up and was afraid she'd been rubbing herself on the thigh he perpetually wedged between her legs? Know that the smell of him made her heart race and her fingers tingle?

Or was she supposed to know that they could sleep together, that he could do all those dark things he'd promised her when she'd told him she'd broken it off with Bobby, and know that they would still be just friends?

Or stay friends?

Or know that the next day or the day after that he'd be with another woman, a woman with skin he could kiss and lick, a woman with a body that wasn't a barrier to the blatant, inherent sexuality that was Remy fucking Lebeau? How the fuck was she supposed to know that?

"Whoa. Whoa. Kid. Easy there."

Rogue blinked, tuning back into the now. Sweat stung her eyes. Logan looked back with speculation in his predatory gaze. _Fuck_. _Could he smell her desire? Her frustration? The thought made her queasy._ "What?"

"Think we're good, kid. You got a session with Gumbo in ten. No time to shower." Her jaw worked and the Wolverine tapped it lightly with his knuckles. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Yep, I want my best friend to fuck me mindless, but I don't know if we'd still be friends afterward. I don't even know why he wants me, but if I don't find some relief soon I'm going to let Magneto loose in my head because he'll wipe out the lust and enjoy destroying things. "

Wolverine's claws snicked out, though he was still more or less slack-jawed at the revelation.

Or so the little mental fantasy went because Rogue didn't actually say what was troubling her. Instead, she gave him a growl and a, "Shut up, Logan." Before storming off, unwrapping her hands on the fly as she headed for Remy.

* * *

**R**emy wasn't exactly displeased with crackling disgruntlement that was the Rogue and had been for several days now. The rest of their intimates on Muir Island didn't see why her temper, her constant narrow-eyed stare, left him whistling when they wanted to hide. But, then, they didn't know that lately, at night, she wasn't having nightmares. They didn't know that she'd press into him, hands clutching the back of his shirt, and moan his name in her sleep. They didn't know that he was frustrated and fantastically fucking hopeful.

Or that he had an ace up his sleeve. When she arrived sweaty and pissy, arms and slim hands bared by the otherwise neck to toe green of her workout wear, Remy arched a brow. "Thought we were workin' on what's up here," Remy tapped his head, "t'day, _catin."_

"We are."

"You dressed for a workout."

"Had one. Ran over. Where do we start?"

"With a deal."

Rogue's mouth opened on a quick retort, then slowly closed. Suspicion was writ large on her fine-featured face, she asked, "What kind of a deal?

"One you a'ready agreed to, _ange_, so I'm afraid you ain't got no choice."

* * *

**S**he'd known that picnic would eventually come back to bite her in the ass, she just hadn't expected it to be like this. A cooking lesson with Remy Etienne LeBeau. Private. Why he wanted to call in that marker on this, she couldn't fathom, but she showed up in the kitchen as directed feeling wary and hostile and hungry.

Remy was already there, looking entirely too at home from his bare feet to the black apron he'd wrapped at his waist. Music played, a low Cajun tune of, she didn't doubt, someone's lost love.

"A'right, Cajun, I'm here."

Gambit's chuckle was low and easy. Sensual, too, which was just too damned irritating. "And takin' it so good humored, too, _catin. Viens ici._"

It was a very close thing, but she just managed not to drag her feet like a recalcitrant ten year old and stepped to the kitchen counter. "Closer, Anna Marie. You need an apron."

She put out her hand to take the one he held up, but he shook his head and smiled that lazy good-for-nothin' Cajun playboy smile. "Damnit, Gambit." But she turned, huffing as she lifted her arms so he could drape the damnable thing around her waist and then double-wrap the long strings. He had to lean over her shoulder, peering down as he tied the loose ends in the front.

"Don't want it to fall off," murmured so quietly that if his lips hadn't been brushing her ear, she wouldn't have been able to hear him.

"Cajun."

Behind her, Remy's smile was wide and sly. "Rogue?" When she didn't supply anything further, he moved away. "Come wash your hands, _petite_. We got shrimp t'shell."

She grumbled, but soon they were hip to hip shelling shrimp for dinner. And, soon, she was relaxed by the monotonous work. Enough that the low rumble of his voice startled her gaze up to his profile. "You never ask nothin', Anna Marie. About me. 'Bout what's maybe up in that head o' yours." His gaze cut down to hers, but she'd ducked her head over the shrimp. "I was almost married." Her slender hands fumbled and he felt a rush of emotion before he narrowed that channel. "Bella Donna Boudreaux was the daughter of _ma famille's_ rival. Beautiful, smart, an' a good frien' since we could sneak off and catch crawfish together." Those were good memories and his mouth curled into a smile with them. "Our families though, they don't get a long so well. Not for a real long time. An' bad blood between—"

"The Thieves and the Assassins."

He paused, looking down to her now upturned face. "So you do know some of it."

"Cain't help it, Cajun. Got so much of you in my head it's a pure wonder you got any secrets from me."

Eyes locked on hers, Remy confessed, "I don't think I wanna have any secrets from you, _chere._ Not any important ones."

Unsure what to do with that, Rogue ducked her head, going back to the work at hand. " So, ya'll fell in love? Romeo and Juliet?" She could hear the bitterness in her tone, all the sharp edges of jealousy even knowing he wasn't with Bella Donna and hadn't been for years.

Remy shifted on his feet, his hip bumping hers as he did and his own ember-burning gaze going back to to the shrimp. They both worked gloveless. No use ruinin' a good pair with shrimp mess. "Naw. But our families, you know, dey ain't regular families and de feud cost a lot a blood and a lot money. So dey t'ink t'make the peace, they marry the heirs. Prince a T'ieves and de Assassin's princess." Even blocking most of her emotion, he felt discomfort and dread and a lick of heat that was jealousy. "Day o' the weddin', her brother—"

"Julien—"

"Yeah, Julien. He…come at me. Make some accusations. I was young, _chere,_ still learnin' m'power." He stared now at his hands, wide-palmed and strong. "I tried to stop him an' it went wrong. Just everythin' went wrong. I was just tryin' to defend m'self, but I—"

"You don't need to explain." Rogue's voice was steadier as she interrupted. "I can see it. I can see how it happened." She could feel the fear and anger tangle up with confusion as Julien accused and attacked. She could feel the warm wet of the young man's blood as if on her hands, Bella Donna's harsh cries and sharp slaps to get him away, away, just away from her brother. And she knew that there was something murkier, something darker that had propelled the brother to challenge his sister's fiancé on their wedding day. Something the Remy in the room and the Remy in her head were trying to keep from her, as if that wasn't his secret to share even though it had cost him the life he thought he'd lead.

Relief washed through him at not having to explain, to walk that memory through; he would have done it, for her, but just remembering churned him up in a way few things did. Scooping the shrimp they'd shelled and deveined into a colander, he cleared his throat and continued. "Well, I had t'run. _Mon père_, he make a deal for my life and the deal is pretty simple. I never go back to N'awlins, to Louisiana, and the Assassins won' come for me. I'm banished, no contact with anyone back home, and the peace, it hold without the weddin'."

Rogue turned the tap water on, washing her hands slowly, methodically. Her stomach twisted into knots at the thought of him being ripped away from his family, a family she knew he loved and adored, not the least for taking him in, for seeing beyond the red on black eyes, the demon eyes and the power he wielded. She ached for the just barely 18 year old Remy, lankier than he was now, cock-sure and without so much of the darkness at his edges. The boy who had yet to kill anyone. But, still, she had to ask: "Why are you tellin' me, Remy?" Why'd he call in his marker and force this conversation now?

"Because dat ain't de worse thing I ever done but it's mebbe de t'ing I regret the most. Because it was an accident, me killin' him, but he ain't the only life I've taken. And you gotta understand, Anna Marie," he steadied his nerves with a quietly indrawn breath, leaned back against the counter and waited for her to meet his gaze, "that I ain't a good man or even a kind one. But when I—" he shifted the word from love, sensing she wasn't ready for it, sensing she was like a bird poised on a ledge and just the right draft would tempt her to fly away, "care, good man or bad man, hard or indifferent, everything I am gonna be done for that person. For that family 'cause I ain't gonna do nothin' to lose my family again."

He didn't give her much time to feel the power of the words or to search the raw and open wound in his soul that lay beyond them. Somehow, he seemed to charge the air and change the entire tone. The rest of the evening he was playful, charming, and Anna Marie almost wondered if that interlude had even happened.

Of course, it was also the one thing she couldn't shake. Not as they made rice or beignets, not when they ate dinner and he told her all the places he'd been that would be better if they visited them together. It was on her mind when they curled together in bed and as soon as she woke up, alone in grey morning light. If she risked their friendship, was he really promising not to break her heart?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Holy crap. Over 200 follows and me takin' my sweet time to update. THANK YOU ALL! Also, it was taking so long because I've been working on the next two chapters at the same time; I hope that means I'll get them out more quickly. We're sort of drunkenly careering to the end (in several chapters! you know I don't actually know) and endings are hard.

However, I couldn't look at it anymore. I hope you enjoyed it! And, as ever, more to come!


	32. Chapter 31: Voyeur

**WARNING:** This fic is rated M for Mature and this chapter earns the rating. (Well, we've got cursing throughout the story, but this gets a bit graphic. So, be warned.)

* * *

**Chapter 31:** Voyeur

**T**he room was steamy and smelled of rosemary and mint, of Remy. He swiped the mirror clear with her robe and had Rogue snorting a laugh where she sat on counter. "Couldn't have done that yourself, _chere?"_

"I did do it my own self, I just used your arm." Releasing it, he slanted her a smile, then began lathering the sharp line of his jaw in order to shave. His red on black eyes slid sidelong as she seemed intent on watching his progress. "This is that interestin', _petite?_"

A towel slung low on his waist, his rich hair damp and tousled, his bronzed skin warm from a hot shower-_Yeah, it's interesting_. "Didn't realize you didn't like an audience. I could just go." She feinted, or flirted, starting to slide down the countertop. A strong hand stayed her, curving over her thigh. "No?"

Remy's only too mobile mouth held a smile, sensuous and inviting, and his eyes sparked amusement at her. "_Non._" He squeezed her thigh gently, affectionately, through the thin fabric but reluctantly drew away to lift his razor. He was keenly aware of her, of the brush of her calf at his hip, the delicate line of her throat exposed by the delving sides of her robe, the way her gaze followed each movement he made with his hand. He was keenly aware that after a day of her dark green eyes watching him, of stillness and a silence that was unnatural to her, she'd made some kind of decision. He didn't know what it was but he did know that she was alight again. "I know you got memories of this, _chere._ Why so curious?"

Rogue shrugged. "Memories that ain't mine. Just seein' how it compares."

Razor a scant inch from his jaw, Remy turned to her. "Hm. This is one of those things maybe you know how t'do, no?"

"What?" Rogue straightened, palms slapping onto the countertop; she could see where that speculation was going.

But Remy was there, between her legs, blocking her exit. One hand on the counter by her hip, the other offered her the razor. "Let's see, _chere._ Me, Mags, Logan….you got a bunch of shavin' know how."

"From the perspective of a man or shavin' myself." Thankfully, Remy could generally follow the complicated way she talked about her stolen experiences. He understood she meant she wouldn't know how to shave him, a woman shaving a man's jaw.

"And I bet not a few women who've shaved their lovers." He wasn't unaware of the implication. "Go on."

"I could cut you."

"I'll heal." Remy gave her his most teasing grin and leaned forward, mouth angling near to hers before he whispered, "Coward."

"Oh, give me the damn razor," she snapped, reaching for it. Not a foolish man, Remy held it out of reach. "You wanted me to shave you!"

"Not when you lookin' like you figurin' out how to decapitate me with this thing."

Rogue's eyes narrowed even as she strained for the razor he held out of reach. "Not decapitate. Exsanguinate with tiny, tiny cuts from your precious razor."

"You one blood thirsty _femme._" He paused a beat. "Turns me on." Her mouth fell open and he dipped in for a nip at her lower lip while passing the razor into her hands. "I trust you, Anna Marie." She now looked caught somewhere between rage, confusion, and lust.

"I don't have my gloves on, Remy."

"Let's find out if the shavin' cream's enough," a husky reply that heated the already thick air between them.

He loved living on the edge, courting the disaster that was her touch, but Rogue couldn't work up a protest. He was nestled between her thighs, protected by her robe and his towel, and the intimacy of all that exposed skin both worried and excited her. Sighing heavily, she nudged his chin up with her knuckles and set to work.

At first, she was nervous and too aware of the Cajun's proximity. But as she settled into the work, focused on the scrape of the blade on his skin, nerves gave way to languid awareness. Skimming her fingertips through his hair, she guided his head to one side and then the other. Their breath mingled, he pressed closer.

All too soon she was finished. Impulsively, Rogue leaned in and rubbed her cheek against his.

Remy had to let out a slow breath, holding carefully still as she drew back. "How's it feel?"

"Good. You should take a look," whispered to match the low gravel of his question.

"Anna-" Long, strong fingers curled at the outside of her hips. When her hands glided through his hair again he felt himself tremble. "I want-"

She didn't let him finish. Surprising them both, Rogue pressed her mouth to his. It was her tongue that traced his lips, coaxing him to open up. She wanted to touch, but she knew she had to keep her hands anchored in his hair or give up his mouth all the sooner.

Remy let her lead; let her designate the pressure and the depth of the kiss, the length of it before they broke apart. Her breath skimmed his jaw and Remy tipped his head back for her. He found the damp ends of long curling hair and toyed with them as she tasted the beat of his pulse. When her hips shifted forward, her thighs opening wider, he was quick to accept the invitation.

Rogue heard a sound, thought maybe she'd moaned, and found her hands gripping the hard curve of his rear over the towel while she teased herself with the taste of him. When his hand cupped her breast through fabric, she bit down on his shoulder and earned a dark, knowing chuckle. It was exactly the sort of sound she'd imagined him making with their bodies tangled.

Rogue let her hair fall between them, onto his bare chest; through the veil of curls, she rubbed her cheek against warm, hard muscle. But Remy wanted more, needed more and so he carefully parted the robe.

Leaning back, his burning hell-fire gaze watched her as he peeled the material apart, stroked his fingertips along the blade of collarbones and the flat plain of her chest. Thief's fingers stole softly over gold dust skin before finally brushing down the generous swell of her breasts.

Anna's hips bucked into him; he answered by pressing into her heat. The Devil-may-care gaze, all burn, all serious intention, drifted from her face to the soft swells he molded with his hands. On a groan, he caught the dusky, hard tip of one between his lips. He sucked it into his mouth, felt the answering tug of her fingers in his hair, and moaned both his approval and his pleasure against tender flesh.

Which was why, when she jerked and scraped her nipple between his teeth, he was surprised and aroused. He twitched against the towel; the sound she'd made had been one of pleasure, shocked and aggrieved, but still pleasure. "Let me kiss that better, _ange,"_ whispered. But her small, strong hands tugged his hair hard, so he drew his face up. "_Catin_, I know you're impatient but trust me that taking our time is-" Her face, the one he expected to be scowling and flushed with heat, eyes stinging but drenched in desire, looked wildly desperate.

And for good reason: They weren't alone.

Gambit didn't have to look to know the who. He'd lived with them all long enough to recognize the touch of the emotions, riotous though they were at the moment. Deliberately closing the robe and smoothing back Anna's hair, he took a moment before glancing over his shoulder. "While mebbe we could say it's an unexpected pleasure for ya'll to be visitin', we still observe the general niceties here in Scotland. Knockin' on doors, for one." Unable to step away from Rogue for a variety of reasons, Remy eyed the small collection of Xavier students while running a soothing hand over Rogue's back; she clutched her robe tight with both hands and tipped her head forward, hiding behind him and her tangled curls.

"It was open," Piotr said, the large Russian wearing a stain of red on his cheeks.

"If by that you mean unlocked," Remy offered a lazy smile that wasn't exactly friendly, "that don't mean you walk on in. As you can see, we weren't expectin' visitors. If ya'll wouldn't mind headin' on out, we'll join you in a few minutes."

There was a derisive sound and something like, "Is that all you take?" but as Remy was fairly certain that had come from Chilly Willy, he opted not to respond. Instead, he sought out Kitty— wide-eyed, mouth slack Kitty— and quirked a brow. Tipping her head, tucking her mouth into a firm line, she soon had the little voyeurs moving out of the bathroom doorway and, he assumed, out of his and Anna's rooms.

"Anna Marie." Remy spoke quietly, nudging her chin up with gloved fingers until he could look into the ghost-white and horror-struck face of his usually wild-tempered girl. "Anna, they couldn't see much…"

"Enough. They could see enough." Her voice was small, harsh. "And they heard…. they had to have heard…"

"Me."

"Us! I was…and your mouth was doing….Oh, holy fuck."

Remy was loathe to let her go like this and not because, despite the audience, he was still rock hard with need and his mouth was dying to see how much of Rogue's breast it could fit. "We don't owe no one any explanations, _catin._"

"Bobby was with them." And that, Remy thought, was the real problem. Catching his towel with one hand he stepped back. She all but melted to the floor. For the first time in a very long time, Rogue closed a door on him and left him alone on the other side.

* * *

**R**emy joined their visitors first and quickly to assuage as much of Anna's embarrassment as he could. He knew she'd need more time both to calm down and for the circle of black hedging her gaze to subside. There was too much emotion pumping from the small group so he narrowed his intake to the smallest trickle. And still he felt slapped by anger, drowning in curiosity, and little licks of desire at having been accidental voyeurs.

Not bothering to smile, he made straight for Kitty and tucked her into a one-armed hug. "Thank you, _'tite chatte_." He spoke softly, his mouth brushing her hair.

"You two have been holdin' out on me." She too spoke very quietly while still in the tight hold.

When she stepped back, Bobby loomed over her shoulder. The Ice Box's face looked grim. In other circumstances, Remy might've felt sorry for him. But looking at that face, feeling the fury pumping off of him, Remy found his own anger and jealousy twisting in his gut.

"Rogue not enough for you?"

"Bobby. Stop it." Kitty turned into him, her hands planted to his chest. "Don't do this."

"What's he gonna say, Kit? That you two are just friends, too?"

The younger man continued to glare at Remy; Remy looked the epitome of unconcerned, tucking his tingling fingers into the back pockets of his jeans. "Me an' Kitty _are_ friends, _mon ami_."

Bobby stepped forward, bumping into the phaser as she blocked him from going after the more experienced mutant. "You had your hands on her-"

"_Assez."_ Remy didn't move, but his voice whipped across the space and gave Bobby no quarter. "Me and you, we talk 'bout this before, no? How you discuss a lady?" There was absolute silence from the rest of the room. "Remember it and start now."

Kitty turned, smacking her hands into Bobby's chest. She was on the verge of phasing him through the damn floor when he finally broke eye contact with Remy and jerked away. He didn't say anything, but he left a trail of frost on his way out.

Remy wanted nothing more than to take a slug of coffee, scrape his hands over his face, and try to figure out how far back this was going to set him with Rogue. Not true. He wanted nothing more than to storm into her room, tell her they had nothin' to be ashamed of, and pick up where they'd left off before she'd realized they had an audience.

Instead, he flashed a smile at the group. "So, what brings ya'll to Scotland? I'm guessin' it wasn't the promise of a peep show."

* * *

** Author's Note:** As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and commenting and favoriting and following. Ya'll are pretty amazing. I'm the slowest of the slow at updating, but the next two chapters are already in progress, so I am ever hopeful that I'll be more efficient at the updates. Since you all are so patient, I'd also like to suggest you read Mejhiren's "When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun". It's a Hunger Games Everlark AU and is just...stunning. It is still being written and she's had some life stuff going on, but as you all have been hanging with me I think you'd be patient with her (plus! it is so completely worth it). I hope you had the merriest of holidays, whichever you observe! And, and, and I'd love to hear what you thought of their, er, interruption.


	33. Chapter 32: Clarity

**Chapter 32:** Clarity

**"C**ome on, Ro, it ain't nothin' they didn't deserve walkin' in on us like dat." Remy slanted Ororo a charming smile and earned himself a little punch of power from the weather witch. Mussing his too-long hair, the Cajun let the smile melt away under her implacable and too-knowing stare. "Ro. She was so…it was the first time we really…." He dropped his face in his hands, letting his gloved palms muffle the stumbling speech.

"She will not hold you accountable for their of lack manners."

Remy snorted and peeked up at Ro. "_Non, chere._ You wouldn't, my pop chock ain't so forgivin'."

"Yours is she?" Hot color skimmed along his sharp cheekbones and Ororo's wry smile turned into a laugh. Leaning forward, she caught his face between her hands. "I think you are hers. I also think a little uncertainty is good for your character."

"Whose side you on, _petite_?"

"Yours, of course, Gambit." Drawing her hands back she offered him a slow smile, a sly smile. "But in looking forward to what is best for you, I cannot help but think this uncertainty and Rogue's challenging nature are to the benefit of your future character."

He was laughing, low and husky, when Logan arrived with a hard scowl. "Does this mean we're getting off this fucking island?"

"It's lovely to see you as well, Logan." She waited until he'd growled a hello and Remy had leaned back, eyeing Wolverine with amusement, before answering. "No. In fact, we are waiting for word from Australia and then we shall be on our way. But it seemed we could wait here as well as in New York."

"Damnit."

"You wound me, _mon ami,_ actin' like you don't enjoy the company you keepin'."

"That ain't an act, Gumbo." Logan's eyes were adamantium hard.

If Remy didn't know him so well, he'd've thought someone had clued him in to this morning's exhibitionism. But he did know him well and knew that Logan would have led with claws if he'd heard so much as a whisper of the story. "Ah, well, we cannot all have good taste, _chien._"

Logan's muscles bunched and Aurora sighed, stalling him with the lift of her hand and a weary word. "Rogue has made progress and yet you two are the same as ever." Rising, she slipped to Logan and curled her arm through his, ignoring the quiver of muscles beneath her hand. "Come. I would speak to you about the suspicions in Australia and what you think of our young team handling it."

Ro shot Remy a look over her shoulder before finishing her extraction of the Wolverine. It left Remy to replay the morning, the moment when Rogue leaned forward, initiating the kiss. It left him wishing he'd thought to lock the damn doors.

* * *

**R**ogue, on the other hand, had dressed and went to face the music only to not be able to find anyone. She didn't know Forge was acting as tour guide for Scott or that Moira had found the newly fledged X-Men eager with questions. She wouldn't have been gratified to know that their interest was sparked by the fact that they'd walked in on the untouchable girl touching and both parties seeming to enthusiastically enjoy it.

After an abbreviated search, she flung her hands up and decided to appreciate the reprieve. To appreciate it and work out her embarrassment and frustration in the training room. Logan found her there hours later, spin kicking a dummy before launching into rapid-fire punches to its kidneys.

Arms crossed, he waited for her to notice him but her focus was absolute. Prowling forward, Logan touched her shoulder, then dodged her fist and stalled a kick to his ribs that would likely have broken her foot.

"Fuck! Logan!" Rogue dropped her stance, panting and red in the face from however long she'd been pounding the form in front of her.

She yanked out her ear buds and that forestalled his lecture on not being aware of her surroundings. "Time to eat, kid."

Green-eyes slid sideways. "Not hungry. Go on without me."

"How long you been at it?"

"I, uh," Rogue's brow furrowed and she searched out a clock. "Four, maybe five hours?"

"You need to eat." Logan slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her for the door. "C'mon. I ain't dealin' with Jubilee on m'own."

Rogue paled under the workout flush, missing a step that had Logan's gaze coming down on her sharply. "I, uh, didn't realize she was here."

"They didn't find you?"

"They did I was…I just didn't see everyone." Head ducked, she focused on unwinding the tape from her hands. "I should probably grab a shower first. I'm gross."

Logan tipped his head in, sniffed her. When she squirmed his laugh rumbled. "You sweat clean, kid. Nothin' wrong with that. Eat. Then shower." Not letting her wiggle away he guided them toward their usual dining room. He knew she was avoiding Iceman; he also knew she was too damn good to be avoiding a boy because she'd bruised him a little. They'd both have to get the hell over it. Of course, Logan had no idea what Bobby and the others had witnessed only a few hours earlier.

He was clued in pretty quickly that something was amiss between more than Rogue and Bobby. Kitty was the only one who made eye contact but Rogue hustled to the fridge, pulling out food without speaking to anyone. Logan was puzzling over it when John finally said what had been eating at him: "How'd you do it, Rogue?"

She whipped, her haphazard ponytail smacking her cheek as she stared at him. "What?!"

"You were," his gaze shifted to Logan and he cleared his throat, "touching but he didn't go all," John tipped his head, rolled his eyes back and twitched rigidly while gasping for breath. "So? How'd you do it?"

"Touching who?"

Rogue's stomach twisted at Wolverine's rough question. Then, Remy's voice carried into the room. "Me, o'course, Wolvy." White teeth were bared in a smile as he sauntered forward, lean and sexy and not the last self-conscious. Bobby's gaze homed in, cool and blue, but he had received the message loud and clear about keeping his mouth shut. Remy let his own dual-colored eyes slide over the group of subdued mutants before meeting Rogue's eyes. He found them, as expected, murky and guarded.

"I'm thinkin' we need to celebrate the newest X-Men tonight, me. There's a club openin' in the village and we got VIP invitations." With just that, he'd switched the conversation to tonight's possibilities. At least, for the moment and for most of those gathered. Oh, he knew they were all dying of curiosity but they were all wise enough not to allude to any inappropriate behavior in front of Wolverine and, Remy suspected, in front of him as well.

"I got some work t'do but ya'll be ready at nine, yeah?" His smile flashed to the table but he was watching Rogue. Only when she nodded, the minutest dip of her chin, did a knot in his chest ease. "_Bon._ See you then."

On that he was gone as he did have work to do and he wanted to give Rogue some space. After all, it was what she'd demanded when she'd shut that door between them.

* * *

**A**t precisely nine their group—Rogue, Forge, Shane, Piotr, Bobby, Kitty, John, and Jubilee—were gathered and waiting for Remy to arrive. Rogue and Remy had missed each other, either by design or luck, the rest of the day. Rogue had, quite purposefully, avoided most everyone else by begging off for her special training. Only Scott had hunted her down and demanded some of her time. But, as he hadn't seen her half-naked and grinding on Remy, Anna Marie hadn't minded catching up with him while showing off Moira's modified Danger Room.

Remy finally stepped from the elevator in a loudly magenta shirt and dark wash jeans, a combination only he could pull off. "Forge, you mind drivin'?"

Forge flashed him a smile and snagged the keys the thief tossed. Bobby promptly claimed a seat in the car Forge was taking, followed by Kitty and John. When Shane slid into the backseat of the other vehicle, Jubilee tossed Kitty a wink and followed. It appeared she was aiming to make a conquest of Moira's assistant, so much so she didn't complain when Rogue took the front seat which meant Piotr was in the back as well and taking up more than an individual share of space. Had Rogue recently touched Remy she'd have felt, as he did, how delighted Jubilee was by the turn of events. The bubbly mutant was glad to have an excuse to push close to Shane, smiling helplessly even as she twisted so her breasts would push into his arm.

Amused, Remy glanced at Rogue; it was a momentary lapse. He'd forgotten she probably didn't want to speak to him. He'd forgotten she was probably only in his car because Bobby was in the other.

But she surprised him. Her green eyes, unreadable, were steady on his as they pulled out of the garage. When he felt her hand curl over his thigh, his own hands busy with the standard shift and the wheel, Gambit cut a sharp look her direction; she was staring out the passenger side window.

It was a short drive and one he took at a higher than recommended speed. Once they'd parked and everyone piled out Remy expected Rogue to get lost but, again, she surprised him. As they met up with the other half of their partying contingent she was at his side; her hand slid into his, gloved fingers curling firmly around his own.

Looking down in the dark, Remy again found her not looking at him. Confused frustration had his usually slow burn of a temper sparking but still, he curled his hand with hers as they headed for the entrance. He gave their names and their group was ushered through quickly, into low light and a pulse of music that had already enticed a number of people into dancing.

As the drinking age in Ireland put everyone of them at legal, Jubilee did a little squeal, hooked herself around Shane, and led the way towards the bar. Shane glanced back at Rogue, at once dazed and desperate, and she found herself laughing.

Remy's lips brushed her ear then. "Now that's a sound I like."

Hands still linked, Rogue quirked a brow at him, then tugged that hand so he'd follow her. She didn't head to the bar or the dance floor, but a booth a curved booth. A waitress interrupted their silence almost before they'd settled. Aside from ordering, Rogue still didn't speak, though she sat hip to knee with him. Every time she tapped her fingers on the tabletop her arm bumped his. He could smell apples, could see the way the gold shirt under her leather jacket dipped over her breasts. It was soft, as supple as she was, and shimmered in the pulsing lights.

When the waitress delivered Rogue's apple martini, Remy smiled and accepted his whiskey. He took it as a shot, set it aside and reached for his beer. Only then did Rogue turn her face towards his. The bright mint of her eyes gleamed. "I shouldn't have shut you out."

Remy's hand slid over the glass, the sweat gathering on his skin. His eyes burned down at her. He didn't speak, hope strangling him.

"I, I don't know what…what you want from me or, or what I mean to you…" she took a deep breath, fortified herself with a sip of the electric green drink, "and I don't know what my expectations are for, for us." Her free hand lifted and she pulled out the long gold chain where half-his heart dangled. "You are my best friend. And I want…more. I want you." When he still didn't speak her fingers fisted on the heart and she spoke more quickly. "I don't want to hurt Bobby but I want to know what maybe we could be, what maybe we could—"

Remy's mouth stopped the flow of words, the kiss hard and deep. One hand tangled in the wild tumble of her curls, the other gripped hers on the sliver of a heart. When Remy pulled his mouth from hers, he pressed their foreheads together, her curls providing the barrier. "Anna Marie."

He didn't get any further; Jubilee's high laugh pulled their attention. She tumbled into the booth, pulling Shane behind her. The unflappable doctor wore a bemused expression. Piotr followed, then Forge before Leah showed up to introduce them to her brother. They didn't have a moment alone the rest of the night.

At least, not until they were shutting the door on Rogue's room, the moon and a single low burning lamp lighting the space.

Peeling out of her jacket, Rogue gave Remy a glimpse of her toned back, mostly bare. The golden shirt, brought by Kitty from New York, circled low on her back and at her neck with a wide expanse between the two thin strips of cloth securing the material to her body. "Do you think we should've extracted Shane from Jubilee?"

Remy, the coal-glow burn of his gaze taking in curves and skin, the subtle softness of the blouse and the sleek line of leather on her legs, shook his head. Jubilee's an adult." She had, in fact, a year on Rogue. "So's Shane." When he reached her, he used his fingertips to urge her around until they were facing one another. "You look gorgeous, _catin_."

"Remy." She stepped forward, stepped towards his lodestone heat. "I want this. You."

Thief's fingers slid through the rough silk of her bi-colored hair then settled on the strong curve of her shoulders. "God knows, pop chock, I want you too. But we don't have to," he drew in a deep breath, "it doesn't have t'be all at once."

All night she'd been gathering hints of him, shards of warmth as he skimmed fingers beneath the edge of her gloves or brushed his lips at her cheek. They warmed her from the inside out. Her hand pressed to his heart, it beat hard and fast.

"And maybe we should talk 'bout what we want, Anna Marie. Let me be clear 'bout what this, what you mean."

But she was feeling a heady rush from having Remy look at her with that glowing gaze, from the pressure of his hands kneading her shoulders, from the way he'd seeped through her skin until her own desires were edged with the sharp buzz of his. Instead of asking the questions that had been needling her for her weeks, Rogue let her gloved hand glide up and up until she cupped his cheek. "Let me be clear, Remy: I want you t'make to love to me tonight."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I KNOW! I took forever. Everything felt wooden so I started over for the 9000th time today. HOWEVER. I've also written the next part, so expect it this weekend sometime. Cross my heart. I am so glad so many of you are sticking with me and are enjoying the story. I LOVE hearing from you on the reviews and seeing all the new favorites and follows. It's been a rough year over here and knowing that the thing I do to make me happy also makes other people happy is just the best thing ever.


	34. Chapter 33: Carnal Apple

**Author's Note:** Some new French so it is both in the glossary and at the bottom of this chapter. Also, graphic things.

* * *

**Chapter 33: **Carnal Apple**  
**

**S**he'd shocked him. _Let me be clear, Remy: I want you t'make love to me tonight. _The self-confident, highly sexualized, never without something to say Cajun was taken aback by the blatant admission.

"Damnit, Rogue." He'd wanted to give her stages of seduction. He'd wanted to neck with her in the back of a truck with the rollick of an accordion on the radio, to kiss her at the top of the London Eye. He'd wanted to tongue her to climax while she sat splayed on the sink in their bathroom and bring her flowers before a dinner date. Remy'd wanted her to have all those moments, those memories.

But she spoke and his intentions went straight to hell. "_En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie._" One long arm snaked out, drug her to him. For a moment, she was suspended, arched back over the ropy strength of one arm. "You certain, _chere?_ Be certain."

"Damnit, Remy," Rogue echoed, her breath speeding, chest rising and falling rapidly but a smile teasing her lips. "Yes."

It was all he'd needed. Gambit sealed his mouth to hers and sealed their fates, at least for the night. The kiss was rough, need and relief and a keen edge of joy colliding so he wasn't the studied lover as they struggled together. In counterpoint to the rough kiss, though, was his touch. Fingertips, both glove-covered and bare, traced the wings of her shoulder blades, the arch of her spine. The touch was so delicate Rogue shivered in the curve of his always ultra-heated body.

Distracted by the wet point of his tongue behind her ear, under the line of her jaw she didn't notice that Remy guided them from the door to the bed. Caught up in her own micro caresses—lips at the base of his throat, fingers skimming skin and denim at his waist— she only realized they'd traveled when he stopped them and caught her face in his wide-palmed hands.

Rogue grinned in the dark, both playful and impressed. "That was smooth, sugar."

"Ah, _petite_, that's just the beginning." But he held them there, bodies breaths apart, thumbs skimming her cheekbones.

Rogue thought he stared as if he couldn't believe it was happening, perhaps waiting for her to reverse her decision. Reaching for the small snap at the base of her neck that held her shirt up, she intended to prove her intentions. But Remy, anticipating, nudged her fingers aside and handled it himself. Revealing her inch-by-inch, he drug the shimmering fabric over the fragile line of her clavicle, down nipples beaded with need. He followed the descent of cloth with the burning red of his gaze. When both the fabric and his look reached her navel, the Cajun shook his head.

Exposed, aware of his tracking gaze in a way that scalded her, Anna Marie expected him to speak, to wrap himself around her now she was there and eager for him. But, he didn't. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, yeah, _chere_." The raspy southern drawl was mournful. "I don't want t'look away 'cause you're so damn beautiful." His thumb cruised the peak of one nipple. She jerked and his black jack gaze lifted to hers. "But I want to taste you. Ah, God, _catin_. _J'ai envie de toi_."

The blush spread along her chest; he traced it with kisses. For a moment, with his head bent to her chest, he looked up through his cinnamon tipped lashes. Then his breath washed her skin and he circled first one nipple then the other in lush heat. He sucked. Anna's hips bucked. Remy was happy to oblige, fitting them together while working from one breast to the other, then back, never lingering over long. He licked a hot path between her breasts, dipped his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat. She moaned and barely knew the visceral sound for her own.

* * *

_**D**ieu_, she took his breath.

Remy knelt to peel clothes away, leaving Rogue in soft black gloves and the long chain that dangled a jagged heart half between her breasts. She was supple muscle and lavish curves, his dreams made manifest. He was staring again, his gaze grazing every sleek and soon to be well-loved curve.

Rogue's voice interrupted his perusal. "Remy?" His name was a question both breathless and uncertain.

"_Désolé, ma catin._ I lose myself when I look at you." It wasn't a line, though her mouth tipped wry as if it were. Ignoring it and the slight sting of her doubt, Remy lifted her to the edge of the bed. She scooted herself back among the pillows.

It was the same bed they shared night after night, but with Rogue sprawled naked in it, with her lips already raw from his kisses and her nipples damp from his mouth, the landscape was utterly changed.

Once he followed, Remy knew restraint was necessary; skin-to-skin for seconds only, the endless tease made his stomach tight, had him throbbing with a savage need. He pushed her arms up roughly, drug a gloved palm over the stretched length of her. She arched, all power and sensuality.

He muttered rough French, a low curse, and succumbed when she lifted and took his mouth with hers. He groaned when Rogue sank her teeth into his lip, then tongued the indentations. She was a wild thing and it was lucky he had been trained to pick pockets; it was muscle memory only that managed to have him peeling scarves out of a side-table drawer.

He slid one between them, along her flushed and sensitive skin. When she pulled away he draped it over the swell of her breasts and all but immediately caught her nipple through the silk, suckled harder than he'd allowed himself when he'd had her flesh between his lips. Anna Marie became a wave, rippling up and into him, pulsing just moments behind the hard stroke of a tongue, the light scrape of his teeth.

She lost that fluidity when lean fingers slide between her legs, found her lips and feathered attention. Contradictory, fearless pop chock. Remy's amused laugh rumbled against her breast. One of her hands tugged his hair too sharply to ignore; Gambit lifted his gaze at the insistence but grinned unrepentantly around the silk covered nipple caught in his teeth. Rogue's eyes narrowed, teeth bared in a snarl, and then she spread her legs.

Small and tight. Remy shuddered as he pumped his fingers, discovering the places and the pressure that made her hips jerk hard, all but dislodging him. He watched her face, those mercurial eyes, through every moan and sigh. He found her with his thumb and swept tight circles until she cried out, all those well-trained muscles going tight. Whispers in French soothed them both through the intimate intensity.

But Anna Marie didn't let him settle or prepare to take her up and over again. His plans, he was learning, meat nothing to the wild-winged heart of his lover. His lover.

She turned on him, eyes bright with design. Remy recognized a wicked purpose there. She attacked buttons, ripping at them impatiently. She fumbled the fastener of his jeans, then slapped him away when he tried to assist her. His laughter spurred her to snap at him and that prompted him to kiss her, affection and desire a sweet tangle.

When the shirt was finally discarded and the zip of his pants peeled carefully back, she hesitated. Remy pulled himself free, distracting Rogue by nipping his way down her body. The thief tongued her belly button while rolling a condom on, bit the slight curve of her belly beneath it while she tugged his hair. Her hips jerked with a demand she backed up by biting his name out. He wasn't certain, but Remy thought his Anna Marie growled.

She definitely shivered when he chuckled low and murmured, "Ah, _chere_, we got time. Nothin' but time for you, _mon coeur_." A scarf fluttered to her stomach, another was smoothed over her spread thighs. Only then did he lean above her, weight braced on one arm.

Using one of the scarves, Rogue circled Remy's waist with her arms. She splayed gloved hands on his back. "I don't wanna wait anymore, Remy."

"Ah, Anna." He nuzzled his forehead to hers but didn't delay any further. Narrow hips tipped forward; Remy forgot to breathe as he slid his cock against the wet heat he'd explored with his fingers.

Anna Marie tipped up into the pressure, black ringed eyes fierce with desire. "Yes. Now. Damnit, Remy, I've waited long enough."

God, he loved her. Grinning, impossibly amused in the middle of burning from the inside out, he kissed her quickly. But damn if he'd take her quickly. Pushing forward, teeth grinding from the pure pleasure of her, Remy fought the urge to sink deep and hard, to ride them both to a fast completion. Slowly, slowly he fused their bodies. Anna, of course, smiled, all teeth and ferocity.

She tangled fingers in his hair, moaned loudly. Strong legs tightened around the back of his thighs in demand and Remy found himself laughing against that apple-red mouth. "_Ouais! Mon loup."_

Rogue's return laugh settled deep in his belly, infused him with her light. "_Mon cher, mon chou,_" whispered. Her voice was husky, laugh-laced and undeniably the most seductive sound he'd ever heard. He twitched inside of her, rolled his hips. Rogue's now multi-hued eyes widened. "Ah, God, Remy."

"Jus' Remy, _ange_. You don' have t'call me God." When she laughed again, tightening around him, he caught that smile with his mouth and began a slow, rhythmic slide of his hips against hers.

He didn't have to teach her. His Anna-Marie had a store of memories that belied her personal inexperience. It was all the more reason Remy was determined this be burned into her skin, etched on bone. He wanted them to obliterate what any of her psyches might put forth. He wanted her, cellularly, to live this joy, to know it even when she didn't know herself. Dieu knew he would.

"C'mon, Remy, more. Faster." When he refused, Anna bit his shoulder. The sharp and unexpected sting of pain startled a throaty moan from him. Thoughtfully, she licked her way up the straining muscles of his neck. He responded by rolling his hips again, watching her red-and-green gaze go glassy. Mindlessly, she chanted his name.

His fierce pop chock drove him mad with her teeth and her lips, with the hard lift of her hips into every downward thrust. He gasped promises against her ear; begged, in French, as he rocked desperately with her, rocked, desperate to feel her shatter around him, with him.

When she did, bowing from their sheets, holding him fast and deep within her, Remy shook with constraint. But Rogue, untried as she might have been, bit down on his lower lip and locked her legs at his hips. "Remy, damnit, I want to feel you."

He lost all shred of control. They rocked together, hands and mouths everywhere. They rolled, Rogue lifting triumphantly over him once they'd swiftly maneuvered scarves. She rode him fast and hard, gloved fingertips pressed to his stomach, thighs bunching with power. When he came, he bucked up, caught her into his chest, wrapped them together tight enough to bruise them both. Rogue all but howled with it, head thrown back and reveling.

After, they sank back to the bed, tangled up with legs and arms and scarves. Gambit drifted with his face buried in her hair, his softening cock still inside of her. He was loath to lose the intimacy of their interlocked bodies.

Eventually, though, he slid from her and then the bed to tend to practicalities. The condom was discarded. He pulled on soft sweats that hung low on his hips, then a long sleeved tee. Rogue, sleepy and warm, splayed in the tangle of covers and scarves, watched him. Remy could see little red-shot green half-moons where her muddled gaze was mostly shielded by drowsy eyelids.

She frowned when he approached the bed again, started to sit up but the scarves were twisted up with her slender limbs. She tumbled back to the pillows with a grunt.

Remy pressed a knee to the side of the bed and smiled down at her. "What you done to yourself, you?"

Rogue huffed a breath in answer, sending her tangled curls fluttering; the white lock dropped immediately back into her eyes. "I don't think I did this to my ownself, Cajun."

Gently, he helped her untangle the strips of silk while laughing low. Lifting the fabric, he inhaled her scent, theirs. Her hand, still gloved, the only thing she wore aside from that long gold chain, curled against his arm.

Remy raised his brows in question.

"Why're you dressed?"

His mouth curved and he looked over all that inviting gold-dust skin. "'Cause you're not."

Rogue's chin dipped and Remy tracked her eyes. He was hard again, obviously so. When she looked back up one of her hands shoved at the thick mass of her hair. "That was the idea, Remy. You. Me. Naked in this bed."

Catching her face he gave her a hard, smacking kiss on the mouth. "Who are you and what you done with my Anna Marie? Where's the girl said even lookin' was too dangerous?"

A little dazed, the smile on her mouth somehow blurry, she murmured, "Lost her sometime this mornin' when your towel was threatenin' to fall off your hips." Her fingers curled into the elastic band of his pants and tugged. "So where y'at, _cher_?"

"Anna." Her hand disappeared under his waistband. He thought his heart stopped. "Ah, fuck, Anna."

"Mmm. Yeah, that."

Sleep was forgotten. Anna was eager and Remy was happy to oblige her curious nature. They laughed together and then gasped together. Slick bodies found a way of barely breaking the touch, learned instinctively how to keep her mutation from interrupting while also allowing each touch to sizzle through Remy.

Only when the sun was struggling through the mist on the ocean and their bodies were limp with exhaustion, thoroughly satiated, did they struggle into clothes necessary for them to sleep safely. There was lazy, drowsy laughter to accompany low promises in the dark. There were tender strokes and stolen kisses. There was the drum of their hearts, soft sighs, and a silence for once not fraught with what could be but full of the promise of it.

* * *

**En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. **— In her beauty rests (both) my death and my life. Quote from Maurice Scève, French poet

**J**_**'ai envie de toi**__. —_ I want you. Note: A way of saying it with warmth, not vulgarly.)

**Je t'aime** — I love you.

**Je t'adore** — I adore you.

**mon chou **— my cabbage (French term of endearment)

**mon loup** — my wolf (French term of endearment)

**Ouais! **— Yes. More casual that ouis, rather more like "yeah"

The title comes from a Pablo Neruda Poem, it's one of my favorites (and probably has more to do with this story than I realized consciously):

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,  
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,  
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?  
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?  
Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,  
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:  
Love is a war of lightning,  
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.  
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,  
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,  
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,  
slips through the narrow channels of blood  
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,  
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark."

* * *

**More Notes:** You all. You all are so kind and encouraging and wonderful. **Heartbreak Lane:** Totally FF friends. I was so surprised and delighted by what you wrote. Let ME be clear: I adore you. :) **Gigdeygirl:** That means so much to me. Just thank you. **Lovely Smile:** I love your enthusiasm and I'm so, so happy you are still enjoying the story. **Butimbroken:** Buffy and Gilmore Girls are basically responsible for the way I speak, so of course I have to sneak them in whenever I can. **reina13, xan-merrick, redhead36a,craf4sure, ceilidhstewart**: Thank you! SO, so happy to have you reading and commenting. W**arrior-preincess1980** and **MakingT'ingsGoBoom:** Ya'll know Rogue. I have a feeling ya'll are both a bit Rogue-ish. **E:** I hope this was fast enough. (I had to edit a little. I may have started off thinking it should be all serious and sensual and stuff but it didn't feel like them, so it needed some edits.) **Roxic-codone, angelz921:** No interruptions, all Romy. I hope it was satisfying.

I haven't nearly named everyone who has commented or all the wonderful, wonderful folks with follows and favorites, but I think You Are All The Best. Absolutely, Unequivocally Awesome.

As for what happens next, the next chapter is roughed in but it'll need some revising. (I've been snowed in. So easy to write when you can't go anywhere.) Think it'll be smooth sailing?


	35. Chapter 34: Interruption

**Chapter 34: **Interruption

**T**hey woke, however, to banging on their door. Well, Remy did. He'd won the coin-toss last night, which meant Rogue was only wearing gloves and a pair of the knee socks he loved so much. He'd picked them too: honeycomb background with little buzzing bees. It also meant the sweet curve of her ass, the one he'd licked his way up last night while she'd splayed face down on the bed and begged him to quit playing, was bare except for his fully gloved hand curled against gold skin.

When the knocking stopped there was the smell of burning and then the door shoved open, despite having once been locked. Remy reacted on instinct. His free hand, in its usual semi-covered and semi-not state, reached for a deck of cards on the nightstand. The charge was passing to the slim soon-to-be-bomb at the same time he was yanking a cover over Rogue, still sound asleep and unaware of the intruder.

"Don't," Scott's voice clipped, stalling Remy's throw though the card glowed. So did his gaze when it lifted to Scott's face. "We've got a problem. Problems. We need you both. Kitchen." Cyclops paused, perhaps expecting Remy to explain or maybe just to reabsorb the charge from the card in his hand. "Ten minutes, Gambit."

The door banging on Scott's departure finally stirred the warm, limp mass of woman on top of him. Remy absorbed the charge and slid both arms around Rogue. Damn it. "Morning, _catin_." Brushing his mouth over the top of her head, Remy waited for her reaction. Waking up naked and sex-sore in his arms was not an average morning; Rogue was too unpredictable for him to assume that the playful, sensual, unapologetic lover from last night wouldn't retreat this morning.

"Too early." Hiking the sheet he'd drawn to her waist even higher, Rogue nuzzled into his shoulder as if she could burrow in and avoid waking.

Wishing they could do just that, Remy stroked a hand under the sheet and curled his fingers where they'd rested in sleep. Absently kneading muscles, putting off leaving the knot of their bodies, Remy didn't tell her about their morning visitor.

Surprisingly, Rogue turned liquid, her lean and too often tense body relaxing. Bright eyes lifted, focused on his lips.

"Anna Marie," sighed. She was irresistible. He angled his head as she pushed up, their mouths meeting open and wet, familiar and exciting. The lithe fighter was unabashed in the quick ignition of desire. Rogue rubbed against him, hips tipping into his hard thigh, bare breasts skimming his cotton-covered chest.

With extreme regret, Remy gentled the kiss and his grip.

Rogue, smirking, peered down at him. "Do I have to seduce you again?" The Southern drawl drug straight down his spine. "Need to reassure you that we can absolutely have morning sex?" She moved her thigh, gently brushing against evidence that he was more than capable of partaking. "You're ready and I'm not as fragile as you seem t'think." Teeth scraped his jaw in a light bite before that she offered him a hooded look and a smile he'd never seen before, teasing and sultry, and hoped to see again and again in the future. "Who knew Remy Etienne LeBeau would need so much coddling?"

Remy Etienne LeBeau was in love with this sassy, strong mischief-maker. He smiled, dopily, at her for a minute. Long enough that she squirmed and her eyes narrowed. Eventually, she pinched him. "Ow!"

"You are alive in there. What the hell, Remy?"

He would've rubbed his arm where she pinched but that would mean letting go of her and he had no intention of doing that yet. "You're beautiful, Anna Marie. Hard to stop starin'. Even if you are mean as a snake and twice as likely t'bite." She still looked suspicious. Remy nipped her lower lip , slid his tongue against the sensitive skin until she began to go lax again. "I want nothin' more than to spend the rest of the day in bed with you, _catin_, but we been summoned."

Rogue was on the verge of trying to convince him otherwise, an experience he was eager to have, when the word 'summoned' clicked. "When? Who? What?"

Ah, there was his sleep-muddled _femme_. She pushed away, sliding off of him and to her knees in the tangle of sheets. As he followed from his prone position, Remy lifted a hand up to cup a sleep-flushed cheek. "Scott. Knocked on the door." And burst in to see her lying naked on top of him, but Gambit figured it was better to keep that part to his ownself. "We got, oh, 'bout five minutes to get our asses to a meetin'."

"Our _naked_ asses!" The back of her hand swatted his arm. "Remy, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

The man in question looked at her, mouth curving in a slow smile that had dazzled more than one woman. Rogue included. "Your ass is naked and you askin' why I ain't tellin' you to get dressed?" Color washed along her chest, up her neck. He wanted to follow its ascent with his tongue, wanted to catch her up and tell her things she probably didn't want to hear.

"You're-you-" but she faltered in her search for an appropriate insult. Remy's laughter, loud and satisfied, chased her from the bed. Rogue was not fighting a smile, she refused to be, when she threw a pillow at his hard head. "Get up, Cajun. We're down to four minutes."

But she didn't win the fight on amusement for long. They were laughing as they raced down the hall, Remy putting his hands in inappropriate for public places every step of the way. She'd just swatted him from a part of her body that very much wanted to be touched when they rushed through the door, grinning at each other with a camaraderie intensified by their new intimacy.

The silence in the room, however, had both their expressions blanking. Neither noticed that when faced with the grim wall of their colleagues and friends they stood straighter and moved closer together, standing shoulder to shoulder, a unit.

Ingrained habit had the N'awlins thief assessing the room with a swift glance. The doc looked strangely small. The newest X-Men were silent, collected at a table with eyes big. Ororo and Scott gave nothing away, still and silent. Logan looked like he wanted to eat someone for breakfast and not in the usual way. Forge and Shane both looked particularly grim. He took this in, along with a hint of nerves and fear, in less than a second.

Just as Gambit started to ask for an explanation, Logan, all but vibrating, snarled, "The inhibitor collar gets stolen while you're out partyin' and you think it's funny, Gumbo?"

"I hadn't told him," Scott defended, practically on top of Remy's snapped, "What? When?"

Logan pushed away from the counter. "You told him to get his ass—"

"I didn't tell him how serious—"

"—down here, didn't you? Don't matter if he knows why. He's just a —"

"—because he was asleep. I thought it best— "

"_Assez!_" Remy's voice rang out, commanding and too serious to be ignored. Scott scowled behind his aviators. Logan growled. At least they stopped arguing. "Moira. When did the collar disappear?"

"Last night. Sometime between three and four am." The doctor's brogue was pronounced.

"We need to lock down, find out if anyone is missing. Forge, I want you to—"

"Gambit." Moira's soft voice, sounding defeated, interrupted.

"I'll get it back, Doc." He was prepared to soothe her while moving his team to action. "This was my system. My fault. I will make it right."

"It wasn't." Gambit began his protest, but Moira held up her hand. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. Lydia took the collar."

Remy bit off a curse in French. Rogue's hand touched his to get his attention. "Lydia?"

Only Rogue could make him want to smile in the midst of a disaster. And what someone could do with that collar, if they could replicate it, would be disastrous for the mutant community. "The chef."

"Your chef?" He lifted a brow and her cheeks warmed. She probably ought to have learned the woman's name. Although she was now completely certain why she hadn't wanted to remember it: She hadn't wanted to imagine Remy whispering it while he touched her, moaning it while she touched him.

"Still don't mean it is your fault, Moira."

Moira's eyes sharpened and so did her voice. She was rumpled but flinty when she came to her feet. "I trusted her with information you told me she shouldn't have. With access to my private office. I trusted her completely."

Rogue, surprising herself, spoke up. "That still don't make it your fault. Or Gambit's. It's just hers." Anna Marie paused, frowning, recalling the chef lurking near Gambit's room not so long ago. "And probably somethin' she's been plannin' for a long time. Could even by why she slept with —" Remy's hand bumped hers, then tangled their fingers. Laughing at this moment would be highly inappropriate. "There's no point talkin' blame when it wastes time we could be usin' to track her down."

"Unfortunately, we can't all stay and help." Ororo's cultured, calm tones further settled the room. "We've had word from Australia."

* * *

**R**ogue was still playing catch up as she and Remy left the kitchen to pack. "This place in Australia, it was set up for two mutant kids to surf?"

Remy huffed a laugh. "Close enough, _chere_. And there's two mutants there, meant t'keep 'em safe, but things been going sideways for a while. Contacted de Professor a few weeks ago to see if maybe he could spare some help if they couldn't get it under control."

Rogue nodded. "And something happened?"

"They spotted someone dat means trouble 'bout four days ago." He held the door to their room open as she passed through. "Yesterday, dat someone tried t'kill one of them kids."

In the meeting the conversation about Australia had been abbreviated. Rogue didn't need the full details, though, as she was on Team Collar. They divided to pack and, since most of Remy's things were still in his room, it stalled her questions.

But they did still share the bathroom and bumped in there a few minutes later.

Rogue's cheeks flared with heat. "I was going to shower…" Obviously. She'd brought in clothes and had been snagging a towel when he walked in. Of course, he'd probably been thinking the same thing. On the road, it was anyone's guess where they'd be staying or when they'd get a chance to clean up.

Remy looked from Rogue to the glassed-in shower, more than big enough for two. "Go on." He jerked his chin towards the shower. "I need t'make a call."

"Thanks, sugar." Gloved fingers tugged on the edge of his tee in lieu of a kiss. No matter how careful they'd been, she'd taken a lot out of him the night before. "Thought Forge and the others were workin' on trackin' her movements while we got ready?"

"They are." Remy scooped a loose curl behind her ear, a leather covered thumb lingering on the slope of her cheekbone. "I need to tell someone I'm leavin' Scotland."

Rogue's hand fell away from his shirt. "You need t'tell a woman you're leavin' Scotland." Her heart seemed to have sprouted hummingbird wings.

"Yes." Reading her, the tangle of emotion swirled darkly into him.

"A woman you sleep with?"

"I sleep with you every night." He needed her to remember that. She didn't respond. Remy scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then skimmed agile fingers through his still sleep tumbled hair. "Yes, Rogue. A woman I have slept with, a woman I have had sex with. I consider her a friend."

It should have been reassuring, in a way. She knew what he did and why he did it. Not only had she asked, early on, why he fucked strangers but his working with her had pushed him into sleeping with people because she, well. They both knew what her skin did. "You see her every time you go to the mainland?"

"Not every time, no." Remy thought his pop chock looked pale, her eyes too big, but he finished with the full truth. "But every week, yeah. " The quiet became brittle. It seemed as if they were cracking like dropped glass.

"And you call her? From here? Just, just t'talk?" Rogue's husky voice, rougher this morning for the long night, carefully placed each word, tiles on a game board.

Remy didn't want to take his turn. "Anna Marie, please, don't do this."

"I'm just tryin' to figure it out." Tension tightened between them. "You sleep with her, have sex with her, call her just t'talk. You have meals with her, I'm guessin', and you gotta tell her when you go outta town. Sounds like a relationship t'me. Maybe not a conventional one, but…" Strong shoulders shrugged, fingers tugging sleeves over her hands.

Remy looked at the bees wiggling along her toes. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Eventually, the thief settled the bright red of his gaze on her still muddled ones. She hadn't quite slept him off. "Anna Marie. It ain't a relationship, not like you mean. She's just a friend."

But Anna chewed on her lip, considering the phrase. "I'm just a friend that you used t'call every night. I'm just a friend you sleep with. Just a friend you fu—"

"Fuck that, Anna Marie." The Cajun's temper finally ignited, a muscle tightening in his shadowed jaw as he overlapped her. "I ain't got time for this and neither do you." Gambit moved into her space, backed her up against the counter and trapped her with a hand gripping the lip of it on either side of her waist.

"But let's be real clear, yeah?" Remy slanted his mouth near hers, close enough to kiss but instead his breath washed her lips with each angry word. "You asked me to skip the part where we sort out who we are to each other. You knew I went every week to fuck you out of my system.

"Cass is a friend. A friend I been screwing. If you wanna know if I plan t'sleep with her again, ask the damn question. You, _chere_, the one tryin' to avoid layin it out. Me? I told you and told you but you ain't been listenin'. If you think I'd fuck around on my fuckin' best friend, the _l'amour de—" _Remy bit the words off. Rogue's French was unreliable, but he didn't need that kind of confession in the middle of what was already a mess._ "_Dat's what you think of me maybe we got bigger problems."

Remy shoved away from Rogue, from the counter, from the wide green eyes still laced with red and black. The door slammed behind him while Anna Marie stared silently after his retreating back.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First of all, thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter. I was Very Nervous about posting it, but I figured we all (Rogue and Remy included) deserved a pay off for the tension that left them, for once and however briefly, thoroughly satisfied. As for where they are now...well, like many of you said, they just aren't the kind to have calm waters!

On Updates: I couldn't look at this chapter anymore. I hope you liked it (though I'm sure you want to kick both of them). As those of you who have been around for awhile have experienced, I will binge update and then not update for a month. I really don't know if this is the last of the quick updates (though, probably it is). I have one more chapter with a rough (very rough) draft but it is setting up some action so it's important I get it right. I hope you keep reading and commenting and enjoying!


	36. Chapter 35: Divides

**Chapter 35: **Divides

**S**ince the group split along the most uncomfortable lines possible, Rogue wondered if someone hadn't thought the awkward would be amusing. Ororo, Scott, John, Piotr and Jubilee had taken the Blackbird to Australia while Bobby and Kitty joined Rogue, Logan, and Remy on the hunt for The Chef. Linda. Lydia, damn it.

What they knew was that Mist had escaped around the same time the collar went missing. That didn't make anyone feel warm and fuzzy as it indicated Chef Lydia wasn't working alone.

She'd taken one of the facility's cars, then a speedboat. Both had been ditched on the mainland. Tracking her, the five X-Men left the island the same way. They hoped Forge, tracking down reports and sifting through CCTV footage, would have more information for them by the time they reached her drop point.

Everyone but Rogue and Remy were outfitted in X-Men fighting gear: head to toe black, supple and hi-tech. Remy blended in black pants and a matching vee neck sweater. He could have been a cat burglar or a model and either could have been the point. Rogue, not officially a team member, wore leggings and boots with a cropped striped top over a long sleeved black one. As always, she wore gloves. Gloves she fiddled with as the Logan steered their motorized yacht over choppy water. There had been no opportunity to talk to Remy and crowded onto the boat Lydia hadn't taken didn't seem the best place to spark a conversation on his outburst—confession? accusation?—earlier.

Sea spray hit her and she shivered despite a slim leather jacket. An arm curled around her, carrying with it a familiar scent. Remy's gruff voice admonished, "Shoulda worn a raincoat."

"Yellow rain slicker would be kinda noticeable." She didn't turn in to his heat, though she wanted to. She also wasn't unaware that others were watching them. Logan had been scowling harder than usual since they'd stumbled into the kitchen laughing. But, there was a fissure between them, threatening further fractures. While Anna Marie knew this wasn't the time to try and repair them, she found herself whispering, "I didn't mean to…I wasn't accusing you of doin' anythin' wrong."

Closed off to her emotion, Remy was certain the pit in his gut was made by his emotions alone. "Anna Marie."

"No. Just…" Angling her body in, lifting her mouth until she almost brushed his ear with her lips, the Southerner couldn't stop herself. "We haven't made promises. We haven't said….I shouldn't have made you feel like I thought I had some, some…."

"Right to know who I fuck?"

Rogue flinched and her green eyes flitted over the others; they were all pretending not to watch. "Sure, yes. That's one way of puttin' it."

"You uncomfortable, _chere_? You don't wanna talk 'bout it with your ex and everyone listenin'?" There was an edge to the lazy Louisianan drawl. Face unreadable, he looked down at her. "How 'bout me? I got a right to know who you fuck?"

Shaking her head, shame burning in her chest, Rogue made to move away.

But the arm wrapped around her tightened, a thumb brushed soothingly along her ribs. Then, Remy tipped his head, scruffy jaw scraping her temple before settling onto the salt-sprayed tangle of curls. "Stay."

* * *

"**N**othin'," Logan growled after they'd done a check of the boat Lydia had abandoned.

Forge, voice clear as it emitted from the communicator, said, "Didn't think there would be. Seems like she's heading to Edinburgh. She could fly anywhere from there."

"Got that." Remy answered and earned a snarl from Logan as Forge signed off. "Let's move."

All five of them piled into an SUV; Remy took the wheel though Logan wasn't happy about that fact. Rogue ended up in the passenger seat and Logan claimed the third row for himself, to everyone's relief and the likely safety of their driver.

All that was left was speeding in an attempt to catch up with Lydia. In movies, these long ass boring hours of driving and hoping and silent tension were glossed over with a montage set to music. In Rogue's world, though, music had made Logan threaten to rip out the sound system; the hours of driving were set to breathing and the minute sounds of bodies shifting.

There were stops where Forge thought Lydia might have been. Pictures were flashed around. At the last stop, rain pouring down, they questioned, they got soaked, and finally they called it for the night. They found an inn and took three rooms.

Logan snagged the keys and offered one to Kitty, "You and Rogue can share. Gambit and Bobby can take the one next door and I," he grinned, all teeth, "will sacrifice your company and take the one down the hall."

No one consulted him about the change in arrangements, Rogue taking the hand Gambit offered and leaving Bobby to decide if he was going with Kitty or Logan. She imagined he finally went with Kit, though he glared balefully—and as silently as he'd been since they'd left—at her back until Gambit shut the door.

"I liked it better when we were bein' chased."

Gambit's mouth curved. He tugged one of her stray curls, then started peeling out of his wet clothes. "Why's that, _petite_?"

Rogue snorted. "I forget: you like to do the chasin'."

"Depends on who I'm chasin'," answered with a smile that cut dimples into his cheeks. He unfastened his button and snagged the zipper of pants while toeing off his shoes. "Shuck 'em, _chere_. You're soaked. Ain't no time t'get sick and we only here for a few hours: Sleep. Eat. See if Forge cain't find the chef."

Rogue fiddled with the sleeves of her doused shirt, nervously pulling them over gloved fingers. And then he was there, thief's fingers skimming over the chilled skin of her damp cheek. "If we gonna be partners in the field, _petite_, we gotta be able to set the personal stuff aside 'til we got the time and the space t'deal with it. And we ain't got either right now."

She knew that was true, that it would be better discussed when they weren't hip deep in a mission, but…..but she hated feeling as if she were only putting off an inevitable discussion, one where it was finally revealed that she had used up his store of patience, had finally succeeded in pushing him away.

It took her a moment to realize her eyes were fixed on Remy's hands, still lingering at the waistband of his pants. Realizing he knew this, her cheeks went hot and she turned away to peel off a few of her own layers. Remy's dark laughter, husky and full of a promise she now knew he could fulfill, raced over her skin.

Rogue cleared her throat. "Why do y'think she took it? What's she goin' to do with it?"

"She ain't gonna do nothin' with it 'cause we gonna get it back. What she thinks she gonna do with it, now that's a question."

Rogue toyed with the button on her pants, having only gotten as far as getting rid of her boots, socks, and jacket. That's when she heard Remy's voice far too close and felt his arms looping around her waist. "What's takin' so long, _bébé?_"

"Oh, uh, well I figured we should grab showers. You can go first."

He seemed to go completely still behind her, just for a moment, then his cheek drug against hers. Warm breath fanned her skin when he spoke. "We can share."

Nerves tangled. "Both of us naked—"

"My new favorite thing, _petite_." His hand lingered at the button on her pants, rubbing idly over it, making no move to unfasten it just yet.

"Remy, it could be a small shower and we won't….no…scarves." Could toes blush? If so, Anna Marie's were.

"That your only objection?" When she nodded, her cheek gliding along his, Gambit flipped her button open. "In that case, pop chock," and down went the zipper, "I'd like to wash your hair for you." His fingers hooked in the pants and the panties beneath them, scraping them over her hips and partially down her thighs. "Take those off, _ange_."

She bent, nestling against him fleetingly. When she straightened she held herself carefully, marginally away from the heat at her back. "Remy." Breath came a little fast, a little shallow.

A gloved palm settled on the faintly rounded base of her abdomen, fingers toying with the springy hair below it. "Hmm? Oh, you still got all these shirts on." With deliberate precision, he drug his hands over skin and muscle until he'd gripped the bottom edge of the long sleeve shirt. "Arms up."

"I don't need you take my damn shirt—" Too late. Her protest was muffled as he forced her arms up and hiked the clothes over her head, though he did seem to get caught for a second with the neckline more or less in her mouth. When he popped it free she could feel him laughing. "Oh, you think that's funny, Cajun?" Green eyes sparking, she whipped around in a temper. His necklace, the jagged edged heart, swung over the bright green bra, kept swinging lightly even as she fisted her hands on her hips.

But his smile, when she turned and glared, was full of appreciation. "I want to eat you up, _chere._" He snapped his teeth and reached out. Though Rogue tried to stop him, the thief unsnapped the front clasp of the bra with a touch so light she hadn't felt it. The cups sprung apart. Anna laughed, mouth agape, as she stared at his work.

But when Remy spoke again, there was no humor in his voice. "Please, Anna Marie."

No matter that she though it was ill advised, all that skin in a small space, Rogue followed him into the small bathroom and into the shower. They each ruined a pair of gloves as they soaped and massaged, playing dangerously in the tepid water. By the time he'd finished washing her hair Rogue was quivering and the water had turned downright chilly. They toweled themselves dry in a silence thick with need.

Finally, Rogue whispered, "Did you bring the scarves?"

"_Non."_ He smiled openly when she sagged, disappointed. "But we don't need 'em."

"We need something, cowboy."

Remy's laugh boomed and he pulled her tight, their towels keeping most of their skin safely separated. "Imagination, Anna Marie. We just need each other and a little imagination."

* * *

**Author's Note:** You all are the best. And we have new people that sort of read all of the words really swiftly and that's amazing. Thank you for reading and enjoying, following, setting alerts, and commenting. It is crazy fun to be able to write and get your reactions so quickly.

Ah, this chapter. I had gone back and forth on posting this (and the next one) or going a different direction completely but I decided to just go for it. Hope you all enjoyed and are enjoying the slow start to spring. (Unless you are somewhere warm and sunshiney all year, in which case I am all of the jealous.)


	37. Chapter 36: Insider Information

**Chapter 36: **Insider Information

**B**ut the tension, while set aside, wasn't gone. Add that to the worry over the stolen collar and it was little wonder Rogue jackknifed in the middle of the night. Remy woke immediately, one hand reaching for Rogue and the other snagging the cards he kept close.

"_Chere_?" She turned her head towards him and something in her eyes was hard, was empty. "Anna Marie?" Remy dropped the cards and instead cupped her cheeks. Tamping his own fear down he opened up to her and had to immediately close himself off again. There was just too much emotion, too many people's emotions pouring from her slim body.

"_Mon coeur_, come back to me, yeah?" But she continued to stare and, as he watched, it was as if things were moving behind her eyes. Careful of their skin, not thinking having more of him draining into her overtaxed system would be helpful, Gambit brushed bare fingers into the silk of her hair.

As always, she smelled of apples. But now, his scent was mixed with hers. He focused on that blend because, in every other way, she felt alien. "I fucked up. _Mais yeah_. Shouldn't have yelled at you 'cause you asked about Cass. I'm a coonass, _ange_. Maybe we ain't made no promises, but it's just you. Jus' you an' me if that's what you want. But for dat you gotta come back." Nothing. Just nothing.

She was still vacant, whatever was going on in her head not translating to an outward struggle. Stripping his shirt, Gambit maneuvered Rogue's unresisting body into it. She was also wearing a pair of boy shorts and knee socks; they would have to suffice for modesty. He needed help, not that he knew who the fuck could help him. Refusing to go far, Remy instead pounded on the wall. When he heard a sleepy, muffled voice he pounded harder.

A few moments later, he swung the door open; Kitty scowled at him and rubbed her eyes. Snagging her arm, ignoring Bobby, he said, "Somethin's wrong."

Kitty looked from Remy, half-dressed, to Rogue sitting up with most of her leg bare in the middle of tangled sheets.

Bobby clued in to the problem more quickly, going directly to the bed; he reached out to touch Anna Marie's cheek but pulled back at the last second. "What did you do to her?" His voice was low and his blue eyes hard. "How long has she been like this?"

"Ten minutes, maybe longer. I ain't never seen her like this." Remy moved back to the bed, both hands roughing through his hair before he sat. One hand curled over Rogue's thigh. She slowly turned her head towards him but her eyes, glowing, weren't even green anymore; instead, she watched him from eyes gone a strange blend of colors that shifted as he watched.

"We should get Logan," Kitty's voice was soft, her dark eyes moving from Remy to Bobby and bouncing uncomfortably off of Rogue's alien stare. She'd heard about Rogue's….episodes and even heard her sort of channel Piotr after a Danger Room session, but nothing like this.

She'd also never seen Gambit panicked or rocked. He could be sarcastic and charming, wry and insouciant but never harried, never desperate. Until now.

"You thought I'd sleep through your little party, did ya? Why in the hell—" Logan's complaining snarl snapped off when he got a look at the room's centerpiece: Rogue. Not only were her eyes empty, vast, and terrifying, but her long hair had begun to lift, drifting up like it would if she were under water. "Gambit."

Remy looked at the older man and fought down his own panic. "Woke up and she was like dis." Before Logan could ask, Remy shook his head. "Ain't never seen nothin' like it. Even if, if one of 'em takes control in de middle of the night, it's just…just one, you know? I always been able to talk her back."

Bobby moved to Kitty's side, giving Logan room. Kitty nudged the door shut for privacy, then slid her hand into Bobby's, their fingers curling together. "Maybe we could get the Professor or, or….."

"Jean? Dat'd take hours, _'tite chatte_. Mebbe a day with the Blackbird in Australia. " Remy tried to tuck back some of those static-y, lifting curls but they simply sprung up again.

"What the hell's up with the hair, kid?" Logan murmured directly to Rogue, rubbing his knuckles along her arm. She didn't react. Jaw clenching, he jerked his head at Remy. But Remy shook his head; he wasn't leaving her side for a private conference. "Gonna have to call the Professor. Me, Shadowcat, and Iceman'll go after the collar. You stay here with the kid and…"

Remy's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking hard in his jaw. "And leave her like dis?"

Wolverine's jaw worked, a muscle ticking. "What the hell else we gonna do, Gambit? I can't read her mind, can you?"

Remy kept his hand soothing as he stroked over her sheet-covered thigh, but his eyes glinted dangerously. "She's trapped in her own head."

"Thought that's what you were workin' on, Gumbo. Or did you get so distracted by tryin' to get in her pants you forgot why we were at Muir Island?" Logan's voice was rumbling, a sure sign the animal was straining against the man.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about, Logan." Remy's own voice, usually a half-amused drawl, was utterly undone: his words clipped, razor sharp warnings at every consonant.

"Oh, I could smell it on you when you finally talked her into it. You don't figure that's why she's here? You selfish son-of-a-"

"Get the fuck outta dis room, Wolverine."

Bobby started forward but Remy's eyes flashed at him, the red like a living flame, and Bobby stepped back again. It was Kitty who finally said, "I doubt this is helping," as the two men glowered across Rogue's inert form.

In moment's they were out in the hall, the door once again left open, with Kitty and Bobby ordered sternly to "Watch her" by both Remy and Logan.

"I'm out, Gumbo, but only for Rogue." He didn't seem to care that his voice carried perfectly to where Kitty had settled on the edge of the bed and Bobby stood with his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on Anna Marie. "You fucked her in more ways than one."

"This ain't because'a me,_ chien_, and don't you talk 'bout her like dat." Remy's fingers flexed, itching to light the Wolverine up.

Wolverine stepped forward, adamantium snicking audibly as it split his skin. "All you ever wanted t'do was use her, see if you could. You think I don't know you like a challenge? You think I didn't know what you were after?"

"I think you don't know a damn thing 'cept your own jealousy, _mon ami._ She ain't hangin' on your every word so much now, no? I think you cain't handle that she might actually trust and love someone else."

"Look, bub, just because you finally fucked her don't mean jack shit. We both know your gonna take off—"

"Stop it!" There was a cry from the bed, the sound of feet slapping the floor. She got tangled up in the sheet and Bobby caught her, helped right her. Then, Rogue was running again. "Just stop it, the both of you!" Anna Marie shoved into the small space still left between Remy and Logan. She pushed Remy with one hand then planted both on Logan and gave him a shove. Physically, it was completely ineffective.

But Logan paused to look down at her, lips pulled back on a growl. "Glad you're back. Now get outta the way, kid."

"No! Stop it! Gawd, Logan, if that's what he wanted from me he coulda had it a thousand times over!" She saw shock and then fury slide over Logan's face but completely missed the shock on Remy's.

"Besides, who're you to talk about someone runnin' off on me? We all do what we have to. Are you done now? Are you both done?" Glancing back at Remy finally, she found his jaw tight and gaze on her, not so much as flickering toward Logan who might still simply decide to skewer him.

"You scared the hell out of me, Anna Marie."

Uncomfortable with responding in front of everyone, Anna Marie pressed a hand to his chest. He covered it with his own for a moment, but didn't stop her when she pulled away. "We need t'get back to dealin' with Mist and the stolen collar."

Bobby, his voice strained, seconded the notion. "The longer we're arguing amongst ourselves the colder the trail gets."

Rogue forced herself to look at Bobby, but he wasn't looking at her. He was refusing to look at her, in fact. "Exactly and I think I know where they might be headin'."

* * *

**A**fter everyone was back in the room she and Remy were sharing, Anna explained what had happened. "Mist is pushy, pushier than most the others. And I been thinkin' about her and Lydia all day. Guess it rattled her up. And then Remy and I," cheeks flushing she snagged the hem of her shirt, only then realizing she wasn't fully dressed, "well, she's got some, some…."

"You don't gotta explain,_ chere_," Remy, subdued, offered.

Their eyes met for a moment, then Anna nodded. "Right. Well, uh, it went sideways, in m'sleep. I was fightin' her but, but so were the others. I woke up and I guess, um, well I really don't know how long it was. "

"Long enough," Logan muttered.

"But while I was tryin' to, to do what I do when I need to…anyway, I got somethin' from her, I think."

"Could it be a trick? A lie?"

Anna's smile was tipped wry. "I know if they lie 'cause they are me. If they believe a lie, I cain't do nothin' 'bout that, of course. Now, Mist, she believes this. She thinks they plannin' to rendezvous in the States, somewhere in West Virginia. Harpers Ferry." Anna Marie shrugged, the name not ringing any of her bells.

"They who?" The question posed with more growl than not.

"Dunno. Didn't say she couldn't hide things from me."

"Rogue, it's….we appreciate you trying but how can we know if this is a genuine lead?"

Before Rogue could respond to Bobby, Remy's eyes flashed up to the younger man. "Have Forge check flights to the states. Particularly any international airports close t'Harpers Ferry. It was the sight of an armed insurrection by an abolitionist durin' the Civil War. If Mist and Lydia are part of some pro-mutant group that believes—"

"The Brotherhood?"

"Could be, Kitty. Bobby, I mean it. Call Forge. Get him lookin'. Everyone try t'get in a couple more hours. We hit the ground runnin' tomorrow." With that, Remy had dismissed all of them, including Logan.

As soon as he'd shut the door, he turned to find Rogue tugging on the hem of her shirt, her fingers barely peeking out of the too-long sleeves. "I shoulda put on pants."

Without a word Remy crossed to her. He tucked her head under his chin and hauled her hard against his chest. For long minutes, he did nothing but breathe her in. When he finally pulled back and looked at her, really looked, her green eyes were shining. "Hey, hey, _petite_. You're okay. You're back. We're okay."

Anna tilted into the hand that cupped her cheek. " I'm sorry. I'm still a liability. If that had happened in a fight or, hell, even if it was just my turn t'drive then—"

"Wouldn't have happened." She started shaking her head so he caught her face in both his hands, so careful not to brush his fingers against her gold dust skin. "You were tired, exhausted, worried 'bout the collar, all tangled up from our fight, and asleep. She did it when you were asleep 'cause that's the only time you were vulnerable enough, _ange_. And you still stopped her."

"Not alone. You and Logan-"

"Havin' a fight helped? That permission to blast his iron ass?" She snorted a laugh and something in his chest eased, warmed, and he couldn't help but dip and kiss her quick. "That a yes, _mon coeur_?"

"No, that ain't a yes. In m'head. You and Logan and Piotr and Kitty—it was like, it was like everyone helped shut her down. I ain't been puttin' any time in on that part of things really, or enough time, but I didn't panic and then, then everyone was helpin'."

Remy didn't know what that meant, really, but he was glad something had stopped her from staying that way. "Well, we wouldn't be no different up there," he tapped her temple with one finger, "than we are out here, no? And all those people love you, _chere_. All part of your team."

Rogue's breath hitched for a moment and she refused to examine why, instead tugging Remy toward the bed. "I guess so. Now come hold me awhile. Don't know if I can sleep, but…."

"Mais yeah, _chere_, you don't have to ask me twice."

Once they were curled together, Anna murmured, "I _did _hear ya'll fightin'. Pissed me clean off." Remy's low laugh rumbled under her cheek. "Guess it mighta helped me tuck her away faster 'cause I wanted to be yellin' at you two."

"Sounds like permission t'me." Remy kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep; he kept watch over her while she dreamed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know! They're a mess!

**E**, I'm sorry you had a bad day and I'm glad I could help make it a little better. Hope you're having a good weekend!

**Heartbreak Lane**, I know what you mean about his mixed signals, but my thoughts are this: For Remy, they've crossed that line and there is no going back. He doesn't want to, so this is just a fight—one of many they are bound to have—and they'll sort it out. In the meantime, he's a physical person, even more so than he is someone of words (he usually uses those glibly and to deflect emotion), so he wants that connection with her. And, yeah, that no doubt makes for a very confused Rogue. As for Bobby, _I _think he's got a reason to be angry and hurt, but is trying desperately to be professional.

**Roxicodone**, Lydia is horrible!

**EllezBellz** and **Ladyhaemi**, that is such a huge compliment that you all read all the story so quickly! I hope you keep enjoying it! To my mysterious guest commenter, thank you!

And to all my beautiful, smart, kind, wonderful readers that I have not named this time around: I love you all! You make snow in late March less horrible. (And that's a big deal because I'm so very done with the snow.)

And, finally: I know how it ends! I spent this afternoon sketching out from this chapter to the end. Up until today I had no idea how in the world this whole thing was going to end or hang together or any of the things. But, guys, I think I even know the last line. Eep!


	38. Chapter 37: Never Say Never

**Chaper 37:** Never say Never

"**I** cain't get on that plane."

Rogue's intel seemed accurate as Forge had found Lydia, using a pseudonym, boarding a flight to Baltimore, MD after a brief stop in Heathrow. Storm hadn't checked in for 12 hours. No one knew how the Australia Mission was going, but they did know the Blackbird was not an option for this particular trans-Atlantic flight which meant the entire team was flying commercially.

Rogue and Logan were the two most annoyed by this development. Logan had to request a body search over a body scan because his entire skeleton was a concealed weapon and no popularized modern technology would account for that. He'd eschewed a witness much to the chagrin of the security agent who had to check him. Later, the poor guy would say repeatedly, "He kept growling."

But, Remy, his hands on Rogue's hips, didn't give two damns about Wolverine's temporary discomfort. He kept his voice low and smooth. "_Catin_, you've flown before." In fact, she'd just flown from Edinburgh to London.

But even that short flight had short-circuited her nerves. "On the Blackbird. With other," she glanced sideways, then went on her tiptoes as she whispered, "_mutants_ and _not_ after wakin' up with witchy hair and rainbow eyes."

Perhaps no one should have described what they'd seen while she'd been out. "I ain't leavin' you here." And that was absolutely final after last night's...situation. "'Sides, maybe you get some more information out of your mini-Mist. We need you."

"I can use a phone, Remy. I can drive back to Muir Island." That southern voice had not one ounce of sweetness in it.

"If it's too dangerous for you t'get on a plane you ain't even flyin' it sure is too damn risky for you t'drive yourself back to the island from London." Their hissing conversation was not unnoticed by either the X-Men, incognito in street gear, or people hanging out in the waiting area of their flight. Not that Remy gave a damn about them either.

"It's a ten hour flight. If I fall asleep who knows what could happen."

Remy didn't see that as a problem. "We'll keep you awake."

"Even if I'm awake there ain't no guarantee I won't do somethin' awful." Because, as he'd experienced, wakefulness was no guarantee of control and all this talk about Mist had the woman rattling the chains. He couldn't know what it felt like to have Mist stalking around, pressing at all the edges, looking for a weak spot.

"Anna Marie, you gotta trust yourself." Remy caught the delicate point of her chin with two gloved fingers, stared hard into those green eyes. "It's your call, _petite_. We can go or we can stay. Me, I believe in you. I wish you believed in your ownself half as much." With that, he walked away from her.

* * *

**S**he got on the damned plane and claimed the window seat, arms crossed and green eyes burning. He was such a good manipulator: _Trust yourself. The team needs you._ Even when she knew he was doing it, she couldn't stop it! Feeling the heavy presence of a body, she snapped, "I ain't talkin' to you right now, Gumbo. If this all goes wrong it's on your stubborn Cajun head."

A decidedly un-masculine laugh answered. "Glad I'm not Remy LeBeau right now." Kitty frowned as Rogue looked at her. "Scratch that. Or _ever_." Settling into the seat beside Rogue, she snapped her seatbelt and wiggled until she was comfy. "But especially right now. Not that you aren't pretty." Kitty smiled at her friend, unperturbed by the temper or the sulk on Rogue's face. "He hasn't slept, so I told him I'd be on Entertain Rogue duty."

Guilt wormed its way into her stomach, as Kitty had intended, but Rogue crossed her arms as if unmoved. "I don't need t'be entertained. I can stay awake for ten hours."

"Good. Because I'm exhausted." Kitty yawned and stretched. Not for nothin' was she one of Remy's closer friends, she too knew the manipulation game. "I didn't sleep much either, after all; once I find out what's been going on, I'll just lie back and snooze."

"What's been—" Rogue was interrupted by the flight attendant explaining what to do in case of emergency and then she was distracted by fearing she might be the emergency. At least no one had touched her skin in hours. Remy had been very careful, at her request, not to transfer any touch-explosion abilities to her since they'd found out they would have to take a commercial flight.

The minute the flight attendant stopped speaking, however, Kitty twisted in her seat again. "When did you and Remy start sleeping together?"

Rogue's hand clamped on Kitty's arm. "Ssssh."

Grinning, Kitty waved a hand in the general direction of the other seats. "No one heard us."

Luckily, they were in First Class, which gave them a little more room between them and any possible eavesdroppers. "It just…Not very…The first time was two days…."

Kitty's blue eyes went wide. "Oooh. The morning all hell broke loose? It happened the night before? Took him long enough." Her head tipped and she skimmed her gaze over Rogue. "You did look hot that night." Then she snorted. "Scott walked in on that? And Logan could smell it! That's what they were all grr argh about!" The pieces, for Kitty, were falling together.

Not so for Rogue. "Scott? Scott didn't walk in on anything." Anna Marie knew Logan had known, he'd told them all as much; she couldn't stand it if Scott had somehow seen something that she didn't know about.

Kitty, wisely, said nothing.

Still, suspicion bloomed for Anna Marie. Scowling and once again folding her arms over her chest, she moved on to her second question as the plane began to taxi down the runway. "Long enough? What does that mean?"

Kitty shook her head and tucked her straight dark hair behind an ear. "That means, Rogue, that he's been into you since the minute he laid eyes on you." She let that sink in, watching color curl up and over Rogue's jaw. "Where are you at? That's what I want to know."

"Where am I at?"

"Do you love him?"

* * *

**R**emy's eyes were closed and had been since he'd buckled his belt. But he could feel Bobby watching him. Fuckin' dog had taken the only separate seat Forge'd bought, next to a stranger, one he'd no doubt terrified into not talking.

Determinedly, Gambit kept his eyes shut even after the weightless drop of the plane lifting off. But even when he finally laid his seat back and slept, he knew Ice Boy was glaring and damn if he wanted to have the confrontation he knew was coming. Least he could put it off til Bo Diddly's likely temperature tantrum wouldn't ice the plane and risk bringin' 'em down in the ocean.

Gambit smirked. Rogue was so damn worried she'd split personalities on them, she didn't even think 'bout the fact Bobby could ice the plane and Remy his ownself could blow it up. Kitty could accidentally phase out of the plane (if she were still given to accidental phasing) and there was no point talkin' 'bout what an adamantium laced body could do slamming into the wall of the plane let alone Wolvy's can opener claws. Anna Marie was the least of the threats on this flight.

* * *

**S**ome seven hours later when Remy took Kitty's seat, damn grateful to be away from Captain Cold Pants, Rogue was still contending with Kit's question. She flushed when Remy sat next to her.

Remy looked over her super heated face. "Still mad, _catin_?"

"Over what?"

Remy snorted. "I don't know. Guess I've given you a lot to be made over lately, no?"

That wasn't what she'd meant at all and Rogue frowned at his dry tone. "No. I mean, I guess, but not really."

"You guess. But, not really." Remy repeated the words slowly, as if the speed would help him comprehend what she was intending to say. "Wanna explain that, _chere_?"

"Also not really."

Remy nodded. "Gonna be a long few hours if you don' wanna talk."

"I didn't say I didn't wanna talk. I just," Rogue cleared her throat awkwardly, buying time for her brain to stop stuttering. "I don't want to talk 'bout that. You said we gotta separate it, so I'm separatin' it."

"Dat's true, _chere_, but aint' much we can do right this minute but talk 'bout—"

"The Plan," Rogue blurted. When he didn't respond, she focused her green gaze on his. He was wearing contacts and they unnerved her as they covered up the red on black brilliance of his natural gaze. The contacts gave him a white sclera and plain ol' brown eyes. "What happens when we get t'Maryland?"

"We drive t'West Virginia."

"And then…"

"The 'and then' depends on what we find or what Forge finds. But the aim is t'get the collar back first. Catch Mist and Lyida if we can, but collar's the priority." He waited for his pop chock to respond, when she didn't, Gambit smiled. "Still got 'bout 2 hours and fifty minutes t'go. Not enough time t'talk things through?"

Rogue scrunched herself into her seat. "I just don't know if a hundred miles in the air—"

"We actually only about—" Her look said she didn't care so he stopped talking, working hard to suppress the smile that had also earned her apparent disfavor.

"Right. So, I don't know if that high is really the best time t'talk about this."

"Because?"

"I could...could lose it."

"You ain't got no powers that ain't your own and I doubt anyone in your head has a death wish, _chere_, even if you did lose it, which I don't think you gonna do."

"I'm sorry." Rogue blurted the words. "Cass is none of my business—"

"_Arrete, toi._ She is your business. Because I'm thinkin' I'm your business." He waited a moment but he wasn't even sure she was breathing. "We're sleepin' together, _chere_, and unless you were plannin' to one and done, I think we both know we mean more'n a quick lay to each other."

Cheeks hot, Rogue leaned in so she could keep her voice even lower. But Remy stalled her with, "'Sides, we already ruined that if that was your master plan, _petite_." At which point, she realized he was smiling, even teasing her!

Rogue swatted his chest with the back of a gloved hand. "Damn it, Remy. This is serious."

Thief's fingers glided through her hair, tugging lightly on a mingle of white and red-brown curls. "That's what I been sayin' all along, _chere."_

"This won't ever be normal. I cain't…I cain't do a lot of things that…that…"

Remy laid his head against hers, careful that their skin didn't touch. His warm breath washed over her lips, as close to a kiss as she'd want to dare. "You can do anythin' and everythin'. We can do anythin' and everythin'. Cass—" His fingers pressed her lips. "Nope. I'm gonna get this out there. Then, you can take your time thinkin' 'bout it." When Anna Marie nodded, he laced their gloved fingers together and continued. "Cass is a friend and she knows, better'n you, how I feel about you and what I want with you, _petite_. Cass is a friend I had sex with. Before you. There ain't gonna be no after you, _chere_, not if what I want matters.

"Whatever you think you cain't do, well, I call bullshit. Few months ago, you thought your mutation was static and it ain't. Few months ago, you thought you couldn't kiss someone or have sex." His grin was sly and sensual. "Think we proved that wrong. Few months ago, you didn't think you could do anything with the voices up there but shut 'em up, but you been learnin' to use their knowledge and work with 'em. So, bullshit." Remy didn't kiss her, but the look he gave her scorched. One wide-palmed hand skimmed over the back of her head, down the rough silk of curls, and settled against her back, between the sharp wings of shoulder blades.

"I have other words for you, _petite_. Big words. Big promises. If you want them, you say the word and they're all yours." With that, he kissed the top of her head, then turned in his seat and picked up a magazine. Just is if everything was that simple.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews and the follows and just for stopping by and reading! Thanks for hanging with me for what has turned into nearly a year-long development. (I think if I lived somewhere that was sunny and warm most of the year, I'd have written this story significantly faster. Can we all just blame the winter for my sporadic updates and extreme slowness?)


	39. Chapter 38: The Rundown

**Chapter 38: **The Rundown

**W**hen they touched down in Maryland it was dark except for the pin dot lights of the airport and the nearby city. Anna Marie's emotions were raw, her body a mess of tense energy. Everyone else, fairly well rested from napping on the flight, funneled her to the back seat of the SUV they'd rented. Figuring she still wouldn't sleep, Rogue was the only one who would've been surprised when they heard a very light snore from the back of the SUV.

"Still no word from Storm and Scott?" Bobby, riding navigator to Logan, glanced over at the Wolverine when he asked.

"Professor said no."

"Should we be worried?" Kitty's voice was pitched low, so as not to disturb Rogue. Remy dropped an arm over Kit, squeezed her shoulder. She looked over at him, "Do you think?"

"They can handle themselves, _petite_." But it was a long time out of contact. "And de Professor, he's got Cerebro. If it were real bad, he'd know." That didn't exactly comfort anyone and the silent ride was tense with worry.

An hour later they arrived in a picturesque town, lights glittering but most homes and businesses tucked up for the night.

"Doesn't exactly look like a hot spot for mutant terrorist activity," murmured Bobby.

"An' that's why it's perfect," Remy answered back, drawling voice low.

"What's perfect?" Muzzy, still tired, and voice rough, Rogue entered the conversation. The deceleration had woken her.

"Ah, hey, beautiful." Remy smiled and twisted in his seat. An elbow hooked over the seat back while his knee drew up in it, flush to Kit's hip. He nudged Kitty discretely with his knee. Kitty, looking back, snorted at the wild haired, swollen-eyed Rogue illuminated by streetlights.

Rogue stuck her tongue out at Kitty and Remy, then immediately clamped her hand on Remy's mouth before he could say the thought she saw forming in the spark of his eyes. "You got rid of the contacts." She could feel his grin under her palm as her arm bobbed with his nod. "Behave," whispered, then she took her hand away and used it to finger comb that mess of hair. "We here?" Said more loudly.

"Yeah, kid." Logan's eyes met hers in the rear-view mirror. "Forge is workin' on triggering the collar so we can trace its location."

"He's kinda handy, even half a world away." Rogue yawned again, lifting her arms and stretching out the kinks from her too short nap on the long back seat. Remy watched her appreciatively but blessedly quiet. "In the meantime, where we headin'?"

"Hotel. Forge thinks it'll be awhile 'fore we can get the collar online, _chere_." Rogue scooted forward in her seat and tipped her head onto Remy's shoulder. Her hand came up, fingers curling with his. It was a casual act, but something in him lifted to it. Bringing his free hand up, he smoothed her curls before kissing the top of them. "You can get some more sleep. You barely got an hour's worth."

"I'd rather get on with it and then sleep for days once we're done."

Remy laughed low and, jostling her, earned a bite that made him grin in the dark. He hid it in the tangle of her hair. Kitty sent him a sort of sly-smug look before she scooted up in her seat and said something to Bobby and Logan he didn't care to try and make out, but he appreciated her distractin' the others. "Me and you and somewhere tropical, what do you think, _catin_?"

Rogue lifted her head enough to balance her chin on his forearm, the two looking long at each other as headlights and streetlights strobed the interior of the vehicle. "I…." She paused and then her lashes dipped and her lips curved, "kinda like the idea of you in some teeny tiny European bathin' suit."

He could feel some tendril of tension unfurling between them, knew she'd left something unsaid in that quiet before her smile, but they all deserved to choose their times and their secrets, even if he'd chosen not to have any from her.

"I'm takin' that as a bona fide agreement for sunshine, beaches, and teeny, tiny bathin' suits." Remy moved slowly enough that she could avoid him if she wanted and still whispered, "I'd like to kiss you now, _catin_."

Rogue took the matter out of his hands and pressed her lips to his, light as air, fleet as wings. Of course he wanted more, but she tucked her head back to his shoulder and closed her eyes. He tucked his cheek against her curls and watched the city fade as they drove away from the quaint village to find a cheap, off the highway hotel.

* * *

**T**hey slept. They showered. And come morning they all gathered for the complimentary breakfast. Wolverine snarled at the eggs before piling them on his plate and had Rogue and Kitty laughing. Bobby made himself so many waffles they all thought the morning manager was going to ask him to please stop even though it said it was an all you can eat buffet. He did make two for Kitty and one for a small, curly haired boy who beamed and proceeded to drive his mother to sighing as he made himself and everything around him syrup sticky. Remy pacified himself with hot coffee and the touch of Rogue's gloved fingers on his thigh while she nibbled her way through a muffin. She liked to eat the top first, then peel away the wrapper and make quick work of the rest of it.

Logan, not enjoying his breakfast but still putting it away, finally said, "We'll split up. Do some recon."

Kitty and Rogue exchanged a look, Rogue hitching a shoulder as they came to a silent agreement. She asked, "And what're we gonna do? Flash pictures of Mist and Lydia around askin' if anyone's seen 'em?"

"Look, kid." There was a growl under those words, his patience with his motley crew apparently at low ebb if he was starting off with a slap down to Rogue.

"It's an honest question. I ain't never chased anyone around after they stole somethin' and it ain't like they're goin' t'be fencin' it, right?" Green eyes swung to Remy, as their expert on stolen goods, and the rest of the table followed the look.

Remy, comfortably reclined in his chair, coffee mug in hand, shook his head. "Naw, beautiful, you right. They either had a buyer or they workin' directly for whoever wanted dat collar. Dis here is a rendezvous point."

"Rogue, can't you find out anything else?" Bobby ventured the question over his half-eaten stack of waffles and earned himself the unwelcome spotlight, neither Logan nor Remy looking real happy about his suggestion.

Rogue, on the other hand, dropped her gaze to her muffin and lifted both hands to it. It was another good reason for Remy to want to unfreeze the stupid stick that boy had stuck up his ass. "It don't really work like that, Bobby. I mean, I guess if the professor flew down he could, maybe, but I probably….shouldn't."

Remy slid his leg against Rogue's while his hand turned elegantly in the air, pulling attention to him and off her red-washed cheeks. "'Sides, we ain't got no guarantee Mist knows more than t'get her ass here. We could split up, act like tourists and see if anythin' comes up. Lydia and Mist probably won't cop to who Bob-o and Kitty are but they catch sight of the rest of us, they gonna know we followed 'em here."

"Which means?" Kitty prompted, blue eyes focused on the Cajun.

"Ya'll get to play pretend for a little while, yeah? Young couple on vacation."

Bobby snorted. "I wouldn't vacation here."

"Sure you would, Roddy, 'cause this here town is historic and you, you just love history, no?" Logan grunted and Remy wasn't sure if that was agreement or amusement or maybe indifference. Had it been dissent, Logan woulda been real clear about it.

"And what will you three be doing?"

"Oh, de same thing, _'tite chatte_, more or less."

The same thing turned out to be visiting empty buildings in the area. Forge sent them a list of addresses. Logan want to split up again, Rogue raised a fuss, and instead they were doing recon as a very irritable trio.

Well, Logan and Rogue were irritable. Remy, whistling as they walked up to a large house with a for sale sign, didn't seem bothered. "So, Logan, you playin' Rogue's dad? Helpin' the soon to be newlyweds look for their first house? That is, if anyone comes up askin' what we're doin'."

Logan lips drew back and Rogue, her hand in Remy's, squeezed hard. "He's a friend helpin' us look for houses in the area." Her voice dropped to a whisper even though she knew Logan would be able to hear what she said next. "Unless you keep provokin' him and then _you_ can be the friend."

Logan chuckled with satisfaction, not trying to hide that he'd heard the threat. Remy leaned in and kissed Rogue's temple then yanked lightly on the bill of the ball cap she was using to hide her two-toned hair. "Mm. Sure, _chere_. I don't mind roleplayin'. I'll be the best friend you been havin' a smokin' hot affair with because your angry fiancé cain't satisfy you."

"Remy!" Rogue's hiss only had him sliding an arm over her shoulder and squeezing, his laughter obscuring whatever Logan's reaction was. It was also when one of their communicators went off. Remy turned his gaze, shaded by aviators, to Logan as the man pulled it out.

But it was nothing but a negative report from Kitty.

And so it went. They met back up for lunch, then hit the streets again. Forge was still struggling with a remote trigger on the collar, but he thought he might get it in the next few hours. Really, Rogue thought as she peered into a window of what had once probably been a grocery store, he was their best hope. This footwork felt like nothin' so much as the kind of busy work you got in school the day before a holiday break.

The communicator buzzed and she dropped from her toes. Remy appeared in an upstairs window, shaking his head. Place was empty. She waved him back down as Wolverine answered the call.

"Logan."

"We think we've spotted Lydia. She's with someone we don't recognize." Kitty's voice was very low, backed by the din of a crowd.

"Where are you, kid?" Kitty gave them an address of a restaurant downtown. Logan took the wheel and Remy, moving more swiftly when he'd felt the curl of anticipation and worry from Rogue, ducked into the front seat almost before Rogue had gotten settled in the back.

If they went the speed limit, they were nearly half-an-hour away. Logan, though, he wasn't so patient and did double the limit while Remy navigated them back towards town. It still seemed to take forever to Rogue. Kitty and Bobby knew not to engage, but if Lydia spotted and recognized them, unlikely but not impossible, she'd run again and they'd be back at square one. If she spotted them and was with someone dangerous, they'd be too far away to help. The ways this could go down and go down bad played out over and over in her mind.

That clinched it. Rogue really preferred to be the one being chased to being the one doin' the chasing.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I LOVE YOU ALL! I thought you should know. You are all fantastic and lovely and amazing. We only have a few more chapters left and I'm sad! And excited!

As often happens, I am posting this because I don't want to look at it anymore and very much want to move on to the next chapter. And the one after that. And after that. I hope it was okay. (I had a hard time figuring out where to end this.)

As always, happy reading!


	40. Chapter 39: Old Friends

**Chapter 39:** Old Friends

**B**efore the cavalry arrived, the two women Kitty and Bobby had spotted were moving. Kitty, palming her communicator in the hopes of it looking like a phone, chatted brightly while keeping her free hand locked hard around Bobby's. "Oh, sure, Mom. It's as pretty as Dad said. I'm so glad we waited until October to come. The leaves are gorgeous…..Uhuh. We've just passed the wax museum but Bobby promises we'll come back tomorrow. I think he wants to see the fort at night. You know how he is about history." Bobby laughed outright, his amusement filtering through the communicator.

"You're doin' great, Kit." Rogue encouraged while Logan drove and Remy navigated.

Bobby and Kitty were not to engage, just keep eyes on the two women. However, they hadn't yet spotted the collar. Not that it meant it wasn't on them; Lydia was carrying a large bag and the other woman wore a jacket despite the warm fall day. Kitty, it turned out, was good at relaying information under the guise of window-shopping. She'd all but fluttered as she'd said, "I was hoping to find some jewelry, maybe a necklace, but I haven't yet. I did spot this adorable leather jacket and this boho bag. Bobby says they don't go together but I'm sure I've got something they would work with."

Remy had laughed. "_Bon Dieu_, Kit, you sound like Jubilee."

Kitty, with a smile in her voice, had retorted, "Who do you think I learned from, _Mom_?"

It took them fifteen minutes to get back to town, fifteen minutes that Rogue was tense and Kitty kept nattering at them about what they were passing and how excited she was to be in Harpers Ferry. "Okay, Kit," Rogue talked as she slid out of the back of the SUV. "We're at the fort."

"Oh, thank God. I see the fort now, Mom. But Bobby wants to go check out the Appalachian Trail. Did you know it cuts right through town?"

"Gotcha, sugar. See you." The two women locked gazes in the twilight; Rogue could see the relief as Kitty tucked the communicator away and leaned into Bobby. They looked _right_ together, their hands linked and her dark head tipped against his shoulder. Bobby's head was tipped towards Kitty as he scanned ahead of them, keeping his eyes on the two women even now slipping towards a foot-bridge that crossed the river, running parallel to one designated for a train. They looked like a couple, even though Rogue knew they were playing a part.

"Rogue? You comin'?" Remy's voice preceded the touch of his fingers at the small of her back.

"Mhmm. Let's go, Cajun." Shaking off the distraction, she fell into step with him.

"Why you smilin'? Lookin' that forward to a rematch with—"

"Two women you slept with?" She cut him off with the words and a smile that had gone wry.

Remy coughed. "Ah, now I wasn't gonna put it just that way, '_tite bouche_."

Rogue bumped him with her hip. Peeling her gloves off and tucking them in her back pocket, she kept right on smiling. "Aw, honey, still is true whether you say it or not." Remy's hand went to the back of his neck. Rogue, laughing at his discomfort, curled an arm around his lean waist; obligingly, Gambit dropped his arm over her shoulder. "Let's get that collar, sugar, then maybe we can take a walk along the river. Sure is a pretty town."

"How 'bout you focus?" Logan snarled as they waited for Bobby and Kit to go ahead of them on the bridge. Remy popped the collar on his trench coat and ducked his head, Logan stayed behind him and Rogue, and they all hoped they wouldn't be too noticeable as a few other stragglers were walking across the bridge that took the same path as the train trestle from West Virginia to Maryland.

The walk across went smoothly enough. Lydia never bothered to look behind her and the stranger, though she did glance back, at least wouldn't recognize any of the five of them.

The women stepped off the bridge followed quickly by Bobby and Kitty. Logan, closing the gap between Remy, Rogue, and himself muttered "I got a bad feelin' about this" right about the time his communicator sounded. He snarled his name into it instead of a hello.

They had just stepped from the bridge onto the gravel under the train tracks on the Maryland side of the river. Bobby and Kitty were to the right, ostensibly admiring the view back to Harpers Ferry as the two women they'd been following disappeared behind a half-wall of stone that must've held the original bridge over the river.

Ororo's voice came low through the communicator. "You need to leave, immediately. You aren't safe."

"No shit, Storm," Logan answered.

Ignoring that, she continued. "The attacks in Australia were part of this. The children are safe and on their way to the Professor but it was much worse than we thought."

"Are ya'll alright?" Rogue pushed closer and gripped Logan's arm, the hard leather of his jacket cool under her palm.

"We're all as can be expected. However," there was a hesitation, a silence with the hushing of white noise, "John is gone."

Green eyes flicked up to Logan, over to Remy. "What do you mean John's gone?"

Ororo's voice crackled in the communicator. "No time to explain now, Rogue. We're still at least an hour out. We'll join you and then decide what to do."

"Too bad we can't wait for a full reunion." John's voice, unexpected, interrupted "Nice to know I'm gone, but not forgotten." Sharp and amused, he smiled as all five X-Men looked at him with varying degrees of confusion and wariness.

Rogue felt relief wash through her just before alarm clawed its way up her throat. "John?"

"That's my slave name. You were always ahead of the curve there, Rogue."

Magneto stepped from behind a piece of the old stone bridge, helmet gleaming in the fast fading fire of daylight. Bobby and Kitty began backing away, side-by-side, not taking their eyes off of the other figures that unmerged from the shadows. The strange woman they'd been following shifted appearances, her blue skin suddenly unmistakable. Beside her, Lydia stared grimly and gripped hands tightly on the large bag she carried.

"Ah, it is always good to meet old friends again and in such an unlikely but lovely spot." Magneto had the voice of an orator and a presence far bigger than his tall, slender personage should have. His appearance, the mane of white hair and the thin skin, belied the power lurking in his bones.

Remy slid his hand into Rogue's, holding tight even when she tried to pull away from the skin-on-skin contact. They exchanged a brief, hard look. He wasn't going to allow her to refuse his power.

Which left answering Magneto to Logan. "What do you want with the collar, bub?"

"Any number of things, Wolverine, any number of things." He sighed as claws snicked out. "I rather admire your tenacity, knowing as you do that, in my presence, you are no threat, have no control." Magneto held up a hand and Wolverine's body quivered; he was poised as if to launch, stalled in the exact moment he'd made the decision to attack.

"Consider, please, that your young partners are untried. Of course, we all know what happened to Rogue at our last encounter. You're looking well, my dear," said as his piercing gaze moved unerringly to Anna Marie.

Wolverine's growl sounded and they could all see his muscles straining as he tried to fight Magneto's power; laced as he was with adamantium, though, Magneto's sway was irresistible.

Magneto, rightfully unconcerned, smiled easily at Rogue and the lanky mutant with his hand still curled around hers. "Gambit. I'd heard you were quite dedicated to this particular job. "

Remy smiled back at Magneto, shrugged, and finally let Anna Marie loose. He lifted one hand palm up. "It's the job I signed on for, _mon ami_. You understand,no?"

"Ahh, of course. Your reputation is, after all, all you have." But those intelligent blue eyes were amused; they hadn't missed the tangle of a bare hand and half-gloved fingers. "Interestingly, I've heard reports that it is perhaps more than a job. That perhaps matters of the heart hold you."

Beside him Mystique laughed and her gold eyes landed on Rogue. "Brought to your knees at last, Gambit?"

Mouth ajar, Rogue's face swung towards Remy. "Her too? Really? _Really?_"

Gambit didn't look down at her but he did muster a low, "I don't think now's the time, Rogue."

Magneto's amusement sounded in a low, friendly laugh. "So it's true. I can understand her particular appeal. Her power is….astounding. Even more so now." It was, perhaps, a deep and abiding regret that he'd alienated the young mutant glaring at him with eyes sharpened now with hint of red and black. "Rogue, won't you consider joining us? You who are feared even among your own. You wouldn't be feared with us. Join us, join your friend." He inclined his head toward Pyro.

For a moment, Anna Marie's eyes locked with John's and sorrow set her chest on fire. "John, come back. Whatever happened you cain't possibly want to go with _him_." She stepped forward, one bare hand outstretched. "Please."

It was Bobby who caught her, his fingers careful of skin, curling instead around her arm. For a moment he and Remy understood each other perfectly, exchanging a speaking glance over her head. "Rogue. He made his choice."

"Man, you are ice. Not even going to try and save me?" Pyro flipped the lighter in his hand and captured a ball of fire.

Bobby shook his head. "You know where home is if you ever want to come back." With that, all hell broke loose. Pyro hurled fire, Bobby slammed up a wall of ice. "Should we run?"

"We cain't leave Logan!" Not allowing anyone to nay say her, Rogue sprinted towards the ice. Kitty caught her arm at the last second and the girls hurtled through the wall. Rogue slammed into Magneto, surprise giving them a momentary advantage, managing to slide a hand against his neck for a beat before she was ripped away by someone she couldn't see.

There were flashes and fire and the sound of bodies hitting walls. Over it all was the groan of metal being torn from its moorings. Rogue, face down in the gravel, skin scraped raw, flipped up and slashed a hand. The trestles, the beams, even the bolts waivered in the air, their trajectory halted. Still, Logan was immobilized and Bobby was pinned. She'd been too slow to stop that. John, grinning, was taking advantage, funneling fire at the boy who had gone full Iceman.

Magneto's voice called to her over the melee as Mist and Kitty sparred under the air-hung beams and Remy faced off with Mystique, his bō staff in hand and both of their bodies moving as if choreographed. "And here I thought you didn't like my mutation, Rogue."

"Naw, sugar, I like it just fine. 'specially now I know how t'use it." With that, her hand shot up and twisted in the air, the metal pinning Bobby swung away in mirror of the action. He sprung at John; a small bomb sent up gravel and dirt; Mist's too familiar voice snapped something as Kitty went down and then disappeared.

It was all moving so quickly, too quickly. There was no way Rogue could hold off Magneto for long; she had only got a couple of seconds in with her bare hands on Magneto's papery skin. He had to be put down fast or she had to get in close again.

"She wouldn't have wanted this, you know," Rogue pushed towards him, shoving a bike rack before her. Magneto had uprooted had uprooted it, even now shaped it into a cage that he couldn't quite force around her.

"Who wouldn't have wanted what, dear?" He didn't sound strained.

Rogue did. She was gasping, her muddled gaze fierce, hands splayed in front of her just inches from the twisted metal of the bike rack. "Our mother."

She saw Magneto flinch, felt the give in his power. "She isn't _our_ anything."

"Oh, but, she is, sugar. You made sure of that when you poured yourself in to me 'til it nearly killed you. I know everything." Rogue's entire focus was on Magneto, on matching her power to the edges of his as he reached out with it.

"I know every kind word, every soft touch. I lived every minute of Auschwitz. I know how you feel about Charles, Mystique. Even me." Her head tipped and she pushed a little harder; he fell back a step. "You were relieved when I didn't die 'cause even though you don't mind sacrificin' the few, the one, to save the many you think I might just be the most powerful mutant you ever met." Rogue's hair began to lift; the color in her eyes, no longer just streaked with Magneto' blue and Remy's red-black, began to shift. "You might just be right."

And that's when Kitty's hands came down on the helmet, peeling it off, just in time for Remy to land a blow that sent the mythic mutant to the ground. As metal started to rain down, Rogue strained to catch it, screaming out as the borrowed power strained to its max. She thought she heard Remy yell for her but over her own screaming and the loud strain of the metal beams, she wasn't sure she if she'd really heard it, or just imagined it before passing out.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Somebody_ said "just keep posting" so I figured what the heck. Two for one today.


	41. Chapter 40: Evolution

**Chapter 40: **Evolution**  
**

_"I think the abilities are still there—"_

_"That's impossible. We've never seen—"_

_"You've never seen, but we—"_

_Voices drifted in an out and Rogue wasn't sure if they were real or not._

_"Just let me heal her. What's the big damn—"_

_"….for her mind if we allow it to heal itself, Logan."_

_"I agree wid de Wolverine."_

_Silence._

_Then: "There's something we never thought to hear."_

* * *

**H**er head hurt. That was for damn sure. Rogue opened her eyes, winced, and squeezed them shut again. Her throat was dry too and her stomach felt hollow. She got that she'd passed out from using Magneto's powers, but, come on. Had she ripped something open in her brain while she was at it? Just as she started to push up, a hand settled on her shoulder. It seemed gentle. But it also felt like it weighed a few tons.

"Hey, there, _chere_. Easy now. Just lie on back."

She shifted her gaze to his face and even the act of moving her eyeballs hurt. "I don't wanna," she croaked. It was barely audible.

Remy's laugh answered softly. "Do you ever wanna do what you're told?" She felt something brush her lips. "Open up, _petite_. It's a straw. You can have a little bit of water."

His wide palmed hand, soothingly warm, helped her hold her head up. Then, in a move she found stingy, he pulled it away after only a couple of weak sips. "Gotta go slow, Anna Marie, real slow."

"How long?"

Remy set the cup aside, then settled gently next to her on the bed. "Close t'two weeks." _13 days._ 6_ hours. 21 minutes._ He'd been counting. She opened her mouth and his hand found her lips, leather gloves pressing very gently. "You kept every one of us from getting' hurt when the metal came down. Mystique and John managed to get Magneto away 'cause we were kinda distracted. But we got Lydia and we got Mist, again, and, most important, we got the collar."

Again she opened her mouth and he laughed, tucking a curl behind her ear and speaking before she could get a word out. "He wanted t'know how it worked so he could figure out how to counteract it. Had some other nastier ideas for puttin' it on humans, too. Lydia's got a husband, seems like. He's a mutant. They met when he came to the Doc for help but his mutation, well, it ain't one she could help. He cain't pass and seems like they went radical when they realized there wasn't much Moira could do for him. Dat's all you get, _petite_, for now. You need to rest. Go on and close your eyes. I'll be right here when you wake up."

And he was. Every time. When she woke in the middle of the night, she was tucked against him, head on his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her. He only left the room when Moira and Jean showed up to do examinations, run tests, take blood. He showered quickly then and his scruff was verging on a beard because he took so little time for himself.

Still, by the fifth day she was. Bare feet paced the tile floor of her room. "This is ridiculous. Moira can go on home." She'd come from Scotland the minute Jean had called and told her what was happening, had been there long before Rogue had woken up. "I want to go back to sleepin' in my room."

Remy glanced at her and her cheeks flushed hotly. "In a room that is not a hospital room," she amended. "I want to go outside. I want—Damn it. What are ya'll not tellin' me?"

Remy shoved away from the counter on which he was leaning. He caught her arms, covered in a long sleeve tee that belonged to him but he thought looked better on her. "A lot, _catin_. But it's for Jean and Moira to explain." He kissed the top of her head and earned a narrow-eyed look.

"Then they need to get their asses in here and start explainin', Remy." Her hands fisted in his shirt. "You haven't touched me once." This, more than anything else, made her afraid. "Logan won't come see me."

"Anna Marie, I touched you. I'm touchin' you right now." He squeezed her arms then looped his long arms around her.

"No. Remy, you haven't touched my _skin,_ not one time. And that's all you've been pushin' for for months. Now you won't?" It wasn't just that he wouldn't touch her. When others came to visit they kept a careful distance. There was no metal in her room, she was fairly positive, all plastic. At night, she woke in his arms and the room might be frosted or she'd be paralyzed with a tangle of emotions pouring in that didn't belong to her or anyone in her head. She wasn't fine, not really, and she knew it. But she didn't know why. "What's wrong with me?"

Remy tipped his head down and sealed his mouth to hers. Damn what Jean and Moira said; damn their fear. He wasn't afraid. When he pulled away, Rogue's eyes were splintered with red. "Not a damn thing, _chere_. Not a damn thing." He kissed the top of her head again, breathing in the apple scent of her hair, and hoped he was right.

* * *

**J**ean and Moira would have agreed that there was nothing precisely _wrong_ with Rogue. But they also wouldn't have said that she was fine.

Left with no option but to talk to their patient once Remy had stormed their workroom, the two doctors were now seated opposite Rogue. "We don't think you just absorb other people's thoughts and abilities. We think you map them, replicate them inside of yourself."

Rogue, legs tucked up into her seat, fingers fiddling with the edges of Remy's borrowed black shirt, wasn't sure she'd have agreed with Remy's prognosis either. "How is that even possible?"

Moira, in a thick cable sweater and no jewelry—as Rogue had suspected, metal had been banned from Rogue's room—leaned forward. "Think of it like drawing blood for DNA. We take your blood. If we take a little your body builds it back up. The more we take, the weaker you'd be and the longer it would take your body to reproduce the blood that we took."

"Okay." Rogue was following. Sort of. It was the same when she leached someone, the longer she held on, the more she took and the longer the person needed to recover.

"With you, Rogue, the longer you have contact, the fuller your mapping process is, from memory to physical abilities, learned or innate." Moira smiled at Rogue's expression. "You already know this. The longer the contact, the longer it takes you to shake out what you've gleaned from someone, right? And the longer you'll have a mutant's abilities if it is a mutant you've touched."

Rogue nodded. "Sure. Okay. But, you can map someone's DNA without suckin' 'em dry."

Jean said, in her quiet way, "The blood drawing is just a metaphor, Rogue. Your abilities, we think, permanently map what you take." She crossed long legs and tucked her hands in the pockets of the lab coat she wore.

"Right. Their…minds, I guess, but just that."

"We think more than just that," Moira replied. "We know the memories are permanent. You often conflate yourself with the psyches you've imprinted; you've had times when you couldn't identify where a piece of knowledge or a preference came from."

Yes, there were times she didn't know her ownself. "Yeah, a'right."

Moira continued, "And you've acquired mechanical skills, fighting techniques."

"But that's all learned stuff, that's in the mind, just like a personality," Rogue protested.

"Powers too, Rogue," Jean said, her brows pulled low. No doubt Rogue's mental turmoil was mucking with Jean's head, the other mutant unable to fully block her out. "We think you have them still." She pulled her hands free of her pockets, gesturing with a bare hand. No jewelry for her either. "The night in Edinburgh, your eye color was changing. We think you map the genetic and even the epigenetic coding for mutant abilities when you absorb them. The more you absorb, the easier they would be to access."

"If that were true, then I'd be runnin' around shootin' lasers outta my eyes and-"

Jean reached forward and took Rogue's fidgeting gloved hand in her own. "We think your mutation regulates itself, that it has a process to suppress or override the acquired DNA. Your inborn mutation will always be primary. But, the more you acquire of an ability or a psyche, the easier it is for you to access. We think that's why you were able to use the metal affinity the way that you did, even after such a brief contact with Magneto. His abilities were already in your system. The touch was like, like…"

"Jump starting a battery," Moira supplied.

Rogue pulled away from Jean, went back to tugging the sleeves of her shirt over her fingertips. "So every mutant I ever absorbed, ya'll think I have their…That I could just…at any time zap someone or blow things up or…"

"We think you could learn to tap into some of the abilities of those you've absorbed most frequently, yes," Moira offered.

"And what if I, what if accidentally I took….all…of someone. What if I killed someone?" Because, hadn't she, with Logan? If he hadn't had his amazing regenerative ability, wouldn't he be her first known fatality?

Moira considered for a moment before answering. "We think there might be a saturation point where the abilities could then become prime, like your own innate gift. We don't know if that saturation point would only come at death, Rogue, or would come at death at all."

"Is that why there ain't no metal in the room?"

The two doctors exchanged glances, then Jean nodded. "Rather unpredictably you would magnetize, for lack of a better word. "

"Anything else?"

"Your hair would stand on end and the video feed would go to static."

"What the hell is that about?"

Jean's mouth tugged up lightly. "We're not sure. Possibly from Storm."

"But I ain't never-" She'd been about to say she hadn't touched Storm, but that wasn't true. She had, during a Danger Room training. "Once. It was only once."

"Storm is an extremely powerful mutant and her abilities are elemental, not unlike Magneto's affinity," Moira said.

"So, you think the strength of the mutant might also affect how I, if I can," she fluttered her fingers, "magic up their abilities?"

"We think it likely, Rogue." Jean watched Rogue as the younger woman tried to absorb what they were telling her.

"And you want to study me more now." It was a flat statement. Not a question. Of course they wanted to study her more.

But Moira was shaking her head. "No." Green eyes met the doctor's and Moira could read, in their murky depths, skepticism. "I want to help you. I will destroy any information after you've been helped. I will not knowingly apply it to any other research, if that's what you want. It's unlikely at this point that you'll be able to ignore this aspect of your mutation. There was always going to be a time that it turned itself on or somehow made itself known. Perhaps working with your mutation was the catalyst, perhaps the secondary contact with Magneto. We don't know, but we do know you can't ignore it, Rogue."

Rogue was silent for a long time, neither Jean nor Moira interrupting her as she looked beyond the small room they were in. "You said video feed. Was this just t'keep an eye on me or was it recordin'?"

Jean knew instinctively what the follow up question would be. "Rogue, the feed did back up automatically but I don't think it's anything you need to see."

But, Rogue, face solemn, looked at Moira. "You made me a promise."

* * *

**I**t was a promise the doctor wished she didn't have to keep. Rogue was settled in to watch; Moira and Jean both stayed. The feed pulled up on Rogue, inert, face scraped raw and bruises blooming darkly under her pale skin. There was no one in the room though the door was ajar; the chaos then, unknown to Rogue, had been outside her door as Remy and Logan had demanded to be let in to see her, demanded Logan be let to heal her. But as the video played, she sat up, her eyes opened wide and empty, and the room began to tremble. Or so it seemed at first. That's when Logan burst in the door ahead of the others and found himself slammed into, then up a wall.

"Rouge, come on, kid. It's just me."

Remy, standing in the door, looked from the Wolverine to the slight figure in a hospital gown with her hair beginning to lift from her shoulders. "_Chere_, " then his wrist snapped up and he lurched forward as if on a chain. Logan fell.

"What just happened?" voice, strained and quiet, broke into the now.

"Charles."

Rogue nodded and sped the video up, watching her body but knowing it hadn't exactly been under her control. She didn't watch much, fast forwarding to see glimpses of visitors or strange occurrences, to watch as each piece of metal was systematically removed after she'd apparently lost control and all of it had slammed towards her, her body a lodestone. She watched her hair lift and her eyes open on colors that were always a surprise and never her own mercurial green. She'd charged her sheets in her sleep twice and the only reason they hadn't exploded was because Remy was sleeping in the bed with her and woke in time to take it away. After watching the second incident she paused the feed. "How could you let him stay? I could've killed us both."

Moira cleared her throat lightly. "It's likely he'd have been severely injured but that you would have recovered quickly."

"What?" Green eyes snapped to the doctor.

Jean tried to intervene but Moira ignored her. After all, she'd made a promise. "You have access to Wolverine's abilities; your wounds, the times you accidentally injured yourself, tended to heal more swiftly than they should have done."

"So I nearly killed Remy twice and ya'll didn't bar him from my room?" She was shocked and sick, the burn in her chest and the churning in her belly a bad combination.

Jean sat forward, a slight smile on her lips. "He's The Prince of Thieves for a reason, Rogue."

Which meant he wouldn't be kept away, even for his own safety. Anna Marie didn't resume watching the video, just sat in silence while the two doctors exchanged concerned looks.

Eventually, her raspy voice all but a whisper, Rogue said, "I want to go back to Muir Island." She cleared her throat, then looked from one physician to the other with determination steeling her spine. "I want to go back to Muir Island. I want to learn to control my mutation, if that's possible."

What she didn't say to them just then was that she was going back alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So many new readers! Thanks for joining us!

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. More to come soon! I am heading out of town for the weekend, so no marathon updating. Plus, we're getting closer and closer to the end! (Sorry, not another 40 chapters!)

As for plans for more stories, I don't yet have any! I'll probably take a little break once this wraps, though. What do you all think? Another ROMY? I sort of have a tickle of an idea for them a little older and going under-cover together, in part 'cause I wanna write a fully powered Rogue. What do YOU ALL want?


	42. Chapter 41: Runaway

**Chapter 41: **Runaway

**R**emy'd fought her on it. He wanted to be with her, wanted to help her. For once, he wasn't alone. Charles, Ororo, Hank, Jean, and Moira all agreed that he'd been valuable in the strides she'd made so far, that connection was part of the key for her; they agreed that isolation tended to exacerbate her anxiety which in turn made it difficult for her to control her mutation.

Rogue would not be moved. She'd go alone—no Remy, no Logan—or she'd leave on her own. She wasn't going to take another minute of their lives. She wasn't going to risk them either. The people at the facility had chosen their risks and not for any one person, certainly not for her. What she didn't say, what Jean could feel and the Professor knew, was that Rogue also knew Logan and Remy would stand in the way of any extreme action that might need to be taken. She wouldn't discuss that fear, though, that extreme measures would need to be taken in order to contain her.

Just before Rogue boarded the Blackbird with Ororo, Moira, and Charles, Remy had caught her in his arms. Regardless of the audience, he'd held her close and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss that looks romantic from the outside but in it, in it the kiss was pure storm, pure sorrow. "Don't do this, Anna Marie. You don't gotta do this alone."

She was fighting tears as she cupped a gloved hand at his cheek. "I don't know how long I'm gonna be gone, Remy. I cain't have you waitin' on me to get it together to start your life again." She'd said that to Bobby once, or nearly, and while it had been true it had also been an excuse. This time it hurt, down in the bones hurt, to say.

"You _are_ my life."

She'd laughed and a tasted the salt of a tear as it slid over her lips. "No. Nope." She shook her head, ponytail whipping at the emphatic negation. "You're gonna go and have a life and adventures and meet someone kinda magnificent, someone who won't nearly kill ya'll while you're sleepin'. And you're gonna buy a house and have little red-eyed babies that you cain't discipline 'cause they got your charm."

"Only if they got your smile, _petite_."

She gave a gasping sound, part sob and part laugh. "I'm dangerous, Remy. The professor's going so he can," she hitched, unable to say the truth as boldly as she thought it: _so he can control me,_ "so he can help me keep from doin' anythin' horrible. You know that." Rogue took a shuddering breath before stealing one more kiss for herself. "I gotta go." She pulled away, but Remy's fingers tangled in the cotton of her shirt; for a moment, she thought he really wouldn't release her. Looking back at him was nearly too much, but his fingers loosened and she ran.

The first package arrived in Scotland a week later. There was sweet tea and a bobble headed alligator. Enclosed was a postcard with the New York Skyline and on the back, in strong, slanting script, just: _Je t'adore_.

She couldn't send it back after seeing it. When the next package arrived a week later, Rogue didn't open it; she simply marked it return to sender.

Each week after a package arrived; each week she sent it back unopened.

* * *

**R**emy held yet another unopened box, battered from two trans-Atlantic trips, in his hand. The Professor had left him alone in his office with it as well as with the tangle of anger and fear in his belly. She was fucking serious. That was it. A year of friendship, months of trying to find each other, and she was done? Fucking done because things got hard? He'd known she was a runner but damned if he could accept that she was running to keep him safe. With a roar he threw the box at the wall, heard what was inside smash, glass breaking.

Just his luck, Logan came running through the door, claws extended. When he saw only the Cajun, eyes glowing, and a now malformed brown wrapped package, his mouth curled. "She don't want you, Gumbo. Get over it."

"She don't want you either, old man, and never did. When you plannin' on getting' over dat?"

Logan growled. "I've been waitin' a long time to deal with you, bub, and ain't no Rogue here to stop me."

"Naw, cher, but ain't much different for you den when she was, no? You still go to bed alone."

"I told you to stay away from her. I told you—"

"Go fuck yourself, _chien_."

That was the last word either said. Logan charged, Remy jumped onto the desk, flipped down, and then things got bad. It was anyone's guess how it might have gone if the boom from a paperweight exploding in Logan's face hadn't brought Scott storming through the door.

"What is going on here?"

"Stay out of it," snarled Remy or Logan or both men.

Then the Professor's voice in their heads distracted them, particularly Remy who was usually blocked to such intrusions, and he found himself flipping over and onto the desk with a trio of claws in his shoulder. The desk cracked as he landed and then the entire thing collapsed when Logan's adamantium-heavy body followed.

That's how the professor found them, bloody and charred and hooked together in the rubble of his desk.

Remy was gone before night came. Logan was gone by sunrise. Neither man had been asked to go and no one was certain if either of them would bother coming back to the mansion.

One thing that didn't stop, however, was the return of packages to the mansion. Though Remy had left, he was still sending boxes to Rogue and Rogue was returning them to the mansion care of Ororo. At least, when she could. When she couldn't, others did it for her.

* * *

**R**emy, traveling, knew only that the boxes arrived for him and were being held for him to deal with when he returned. Ororo didn't share that the handwriting was rarely Rogue's and she didn't tell him what Moira reported back to the team in New York. Remy might have listened if she'd offered, but as it was their check-ins were brief, the loquacious Cajun terse as he submitted to giving her or Kitty proof of life but little else.

So he was surprised when he opened his hotel room door and found not Jonathan, who should have been delivering his room service, but a lithe woman with bright eyes.

Remy stood in the door, soft sweats hanging low on his hips, staring. Eventually, he said, "Cass, what the hell are you doing here?

Cass's eyes slid over Remy from the scruff on his jaw to the V-cut revealed by low hanging sweats and a lack of shirt before her gaze drug back up. "You've really let yourself go, Red Eyes. Hate to see a good man go to waste. Now, invite me in."

Remy shook his head but stood aside so she could move by him and into the hotel room. He was staying in London at the moment, not his usual choice for a late winter getaway; Remy preferred sunshine and sand, but there were extenuating circumstances.

"Not that it ain't good too see you, _petite_, but, how'd you know I was here?"

Remy grabbed a tee from a drawer and pulled it over his head while Cass took a seat at the small table in the corner. She unwound her scarf and peeled off her gloves, shoving both into her jacket before finally snagging the toboggan from still electric blue dipped hair. "Kitty told me."

"Kitty? As in Katherine Pryde?"

Cass finger combed her hair, smoothing it down from the static of the knit cap. "I went t'see Rogue and one thing led to another."

Remy's gaze narrowed. "Led to what, Cass?"

"I like her. Your Rogue."

"What the hell—"

"Not like that!" Cass's laugh was unstoppable, rolling more when Remy's cheeks burned a dull red. "Oh, baby. Sit down."

Remy dropped onto the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Start talkin', Cass."

"I thought maybe I could talk her into seeing you, so I went to the island."

"I didn't ask you t'do that, Cass."

"No, you didn't," she agreed, curling her hands loosely on the arms of the chair. "You also didn't ask Kitty t'try to talk to her, but she did. Remy, Rogue's not…doing great."

A muscle leaped in his jaw; his hands dropped between his knees as he leaned his forearms on his thighs. "Why the hell are you tellin' me this, Cass?"

"Because it doesn't seem like you're doing great either. Everyone's worried about—"

Remy's mouth curled as he cut her off. "I ain't the one to be worried 'bout. What's wrong with Rogue and how de hell do you know anyway?"

"I also met Leah, when I went. She…," Cass shifted in her seat, curling her fingers together and then loosening them as she gestured, "we hit it off. And so I go to the island often and we drop in at the facility to see Forge and Shane and your Rogue." Remy said nothing in the pause. "She lost a few weeks recently.

"Remy, I love you. And I hope that you and she are going to somehow work this out, some day. But, everyone's worried about you, the risks you're taking and now holed up in this hotel," she glanced around, "this admittedly posh and clean hotel," here she smiled wryly, apparently having imagined he was in far dire straits, "and you obviously haven't gone to fat yet, but... Rogue's afraid she's never going to get better. That she's going to end up having to be locked up. Doctor MacTaggert has had to use the collar."

Remy cursed quietly, viciously. Cass crossed to him. Sitting close on the bed she slid her hand into his.

"I could help."

"No." When he looked at her Cass knew she had to tell him the thing she hadn't wanted to. "She lost herself to you for those weeks; it was just after a package arrived from you postmarked some country I don't even know and with what looked like a bullet hole." He winced, confirming that it was a bullet hole. "She wouldn't come back. You, the you inside her head, kept trying to get her back but she…Remy, it was bad. It was very bad."

"That's why I should fuckin' be there!" He stood and for the first time Cass saw him as a mutant, something powerful and other. His eyes were glowing and heat washed off him in waves.

It didn't change what she'd come to say. "No. It's why you have to stop sending her those boxes." She thought he paled.

There was no mistaking the bite to his usual warm drawl. "Ain't you the one said I needed to tell her how I felt? Needed to grab hold of what I wanted before it was too damn late?"

Cass looked up at him, sorrow washing off her so hard he felt it like a punch to the gut. "I did; it's just that now I think it was too late to begin with."


	43. Chapter 42: On My Own

**Chapter 42: **On My Own**  
**

**March**

Inside the plastic room Rogue howled. No, that wasn't true. Inside the plastic room the animal in charge of Rogue's body howled. Bone claws had torn through her hands and her green eyes were a feral gold. It wasn't Logan in charge, but the Wolverine, the animal he cohabitated with had been given full charge of the young mutant. They were all thankful Logan's adamantium hadn't been a natural mutation; Rogue couldn't manifest that science experiment.

It was three days before the animal receded and Anna Marie was back, her green eyes muddy and blank, her small body trembling as she curled into a mattress she'd torn apart days ago.

"Moira, she's worse."

"I know. I know. I think we should try the collar. To give her a break before….before another bout like this one."

Charles looked to Jean and then Hank, but he knew already they were agreed. The video feed was painful to see. "Very well. I'll leave tonight, I'll come-"

Moira shook her head, leaning forward in her seat. "I don't think you should. You help while you're here but every time you leave she has a harder time coping. I wish she'd allow Gambit—" Moira cut herself off, sighed. "I think it's best if everyone from your academy stays away for now, Charles."

**May**

"The collar was off for two days before she went into The Trance." Moira's voice was calm, only someone who knew her well could hear the fatigue at the edges. Sean knew her well. He'd yet to really meet Rogue; each time he'd made it home since the fall the girl hadn't been herself. She'd been Remy LeBeau for a bit, charming and flirtatious with his Moira; a beast no one could get near and had required tranquilizer darts; and Magneto, impotent in the stone and plastic chamber, but urbane and polite, even helpful in discussing Anna Marie's current dilemmas. Now this. She levitated slightly off her bed, mohogany hair swirling up and around her, eyes mercurial.

"Two days is a bit of an improvement, aye? And in The Trance you ken she's fighting the personalities and the abilities, tryin' to control them. That's headway, then, love." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling his partner's slim body into his. He was too often far away but he was going to make arrangements to stay close for awhile. This particular case was breaking her heart, wearing her out. Besides, if he were all honest, this particular case scared him. The mutant in that room was the most powerful he'd ever encountered and while he knew the true girl would be no danger, he also knew she carried monsters in her blood.

His Moira was only human.

**July**

Her hand shook and then disappeared, mist crawling up her arm. Between Mist and Kitty, Anna hadn't been able to hold her form long enough for anyone to get the collar around her throat or knock her out with a dart. She'd had two weeks, two weeks of being herself, of starting to control mutations inside her body before this.

She was so damned scared. When that lock had been tripped on her mutation, it had also riled all of her personalities. They were more with her than they had previously realized, their abilities locked inside right along with their memories and personalities; now everything inside of her seemed to be constantly shifting, the ocean in a storm that wouldn't end.

She knew Moira was scared too. Remy's empathy, she couldn't seem to turn that off. She could feel her across the room. Feel the tension in Forge and Shane and staff members she'd never even met. They were afraid of her. Some of them were afraid for her, but they were all, everyone one, afraid of what she might become.

**October**

She was too exhausted to fight it anymore. Too exhausted to try and lock it down, lock them down, to hold everything at bay.

Anna Marie didn't want to fight anymore; she didn't want to run away. She gave in.


	44. Chapter 43: Back Home

**Chapter 43: **Back Home**  
**

**R**emy was asleep in a hammock, deep in a South American jungle lookin' for some damn mystical stone when his communicator went off. The static was tremendous, but he could just make out Kitty's voice. "She's coming home."

On the other end, Kitty didn't hear Remy confirm that he was coming home too, but she knew. She wouldn't have been surprised that, at sunrise, he abandoned the team he'd imbedded himself with to begin what would be at least a two week trek to civilization.

She wouldn't have recognized him when he arrived in Belém either. His long hair was now more auburn than brown and he pulled it back into a tail, then looped it under again. His beard he had to trim down before he could manage a shave and his skin was shades darker from the months spent in the open air. But it was more than that. There was a hard edge to red on black eyes, a look that had eased when he'd last been at the mansion. His smile was still charming and quick but there was something just underneath, something that potential lovers wanted to soothe and certain other itinerants recognized with a tipped head and a drink bought.

Remy came back to the mansion in the middle of the night. From her window, Kitty looked down on the familiar figure in the shadows cast by the hurricane lanterns that gave the mansion charm (but could, when necessary, be superseded by floodlights). He was a little more lean then she remembered and there was tension in every inch of him, visible even a couple of stories away.

Strong arms curled around her waist and she leaned back into the cool body. Bobby broke the silence, his voice sleep-rough. "You wanna go down and meet him?"

Kitty watched Gambit finally tip his chin down and begin walking toward the wide stairs. "No. Storm said she'd be waiting up for him."

Bobby nuzzled her neck, kissing a spot just behind her left ear that made her shiver. And laugh. She could feel his mouth move into a smile where it was pressed to her pulse. "In that case, why don't you come to bed?"

Turning in the loop of his arms, Kitty looked up at him. They'd been together a year now and in the last month or so he'd begun spending more time in her room than his own. They were instructors now, full-fledged X-Men, and part-time college students so no one batted a lash when she and Bobby left her room together in the mornings. In fact, it had been Jean that suggested they both stop pretending to "study" together every night.

"Move in with me."

Sleepy blue eyes brightened and his smile started to spread slowly. "Kit, if I move in with you I'm going to end up asking you that thing you told me not to ask you yet."

Laughing, Kitty nodded. "I know. And you have to wait at least six more months." Six more months before he was allowed to buy a ring. "Move in with me."

But as she went up on her toes to kiss him, he pulled back. Not away, just back enough to stall the kiss. "This isn't about Rogue coming back, is it?"

"No." Kitty shook her head and smoothed her hands over Bobby's shoulders. "Oh, Bobby, no. Well, yes, but no." At that, he really straightened and a frown started working over his face. So she kicked her bare toes against his shin and winced because it hurt. "I meant, yes, because Rogue coming back, _Remy_ come back really underlines the point that you can't waste time. They've been apart for two years and I don't know if they'll….I don't know what will happen. I know she's changed. I'm sure he's angry with her. And after everything they went through? That's just…ugh, dumb. It's just dumb. So, I'm choosing you and us and no matter—" And then there was the kiss he'd pulled back from, this time stalling her words. When he lifted his head, she was smiling.

Bobby touched his nose lightly to hers. "I think they'll figure it out."

Kitty searched his eyes before saying, "That doesn't bother you?"

"Katherine Pryde, are you jealous?"

"No." She nudged him in the ribs then lifted her chin haughtily. "I'm asking because you have a history and it could be difficult for you considering said history, Robert Drake."

Bobby leaned in close, his smile bringing out his dimples. "Listen up, Katherine Anne Pryde. Rogue's a friend and I want her to be happy. If Gumbo makes her happy, so be it." Broad shoulders shrugged and he tipped his head, his mouth nearly touching hers. "The only history I'm worried about is repeating last night's."

She laughed into the kiss he gave her, curving her body into his. They both forgot, then, the lone figure that had slipped up the steps in the dark.

* * *

**H**e hadn't been expecting a greeting. In fact, Remy'd been hoping to avoid one by arriving in the time when calling it night or morning depended on whether you'd been to sleep yet or not. But Ororo was there, in the foyer, wrapped in black silk with her hair a bright white fall over her shoulders. When he hesitated to close the distance, she lifted a hand to his cheek. "You've been missed, Gambit."

For the first time, Remy realized he'd been missing more than just one sassy southern girl. He tipped his cheek into her hand, then caught it up with his own and brought it to his lips. "So've you, Stormy."

He watched Storm's smile curve but could still see her searching his face as if for secrets as she said, "Come, let's get you settled and you can tell me all about South America." She linked her arm through his free one and guided him towards the stairs.

"Not much t'tell." She lifted delicate brows over pale eyes prompting him to elaborate: "It's hot."

Ororo nodded as they climbed the stairs side by side. "As one would expect. But no adventures for me? No heists? No leaping from a woman's window because her husband came home early?"

There had been all of that and it had all tasted of ash. He'd stolen a few million dollars in jewels to ingratiate himself with the team he'd just abandoned. He'd seduced the wife of a president and spent a month in a cabin with a young woman named Yaxeni, no last name; she never wore shoes and painted nudes of him in colors that flamed. In all fairness, she'd also painted while naked, staining her fingers vibrantly orange and red.

"Nothin' excitin', _chere_." Nothing he wanted to remember. Nothing he was proud of.

At his door, Ororo rested a hand on his arm. "Do you know what you intend to say to her?"

"_Pardón?"_

Ororo's smile was knowing and kind. It was one of the reasons he'd not come back before now: that smile, the way she would really see him. "You've come home for Rogue. Do you know what you intend to say to her?"

Remy's face, often a charming mask, went blank. "It's been a long day. I'll see you tomorrow, 'Ro." He shut the door between them.

* * *

**T**here were whispers and looks. Bets were placed on everything from how soon before Logan and Remy fought again to what they would break this time. Logan hadn't stayed long away; at least, Logan hadn't stayed away as long as Remy so even the newest students were familiar with the Wolverine's impatience.

And all that was before Rogue's imminent arrival had officially leaked. Once it did, no thing in a school such as theirs being truly secret, excitement hummed along. After all, despite the fact that they lived with X-Men, bona fide superheroes, the day to day of boarding school was dull, the excitement in the love stories, the petty grievances, the interpersonal dramas. And this particular interpersonal drama had become, in the last two years, the stuff of legends.

Remy, the charming cad with the dirt from exotic locales to shake off his boots, was watched, sighed and fawned over. He refused to talk about Rogue or the Lost Years (Jubilee's term). To those who didn't know him well, the years had left him unchanged. For those that did, the changes were subtle but evident.

Rogue was a legend. The girl who'd nearly died and destroyed world government at Liberty Island. Maybe the most powerful mutant to ever live, too bad she was also driven completely insane by her mutation. Or so the stories went.

At least, so they went out of Gambit's earshot. That mistake had been made once and only once.

However, those anticipating the reunion between the explosive Cajun and _the Rogue_, were destined for disappointment.

* * *

**R**ogue arrived in a cherry red Triumph with her hair wind-tangled and her cheeks bright from the bite of it or maybe the heat of late June in New York. She was all sunshine gold and big dark glasses. They'd heard she wore turtlenecks even in the summer but when she climbed out of her car and hugged Shadowcat her arms and legs were bare and tan. She did wear gloves on her hands, though. At least there was that.

Bobby came out and snagged Rogue for a hug; they stood grinning up at each other with arms looped loosely as they talked, then all three lugged bags toward the school. Students, having stopped between classes to goggle, hurried about their business.

"It's good t'be back."

Kitty groaned, hefting her piece of luggage. "Did you forget we've got our own kitchen sink? You didn't need to bring us one."

Rogue's laugh boomed out, husky and unfettered as she grinned at her friend and then peeked over her glasses. "That one's got the gifts. Trust me, you want what I brought."

But Kitty had frozen. "Rogue?"

"Ah, well, yeah." She slid the glasses back on. "That'll take some explainin'." But she wasn't in the mood to explain her eyes. Instead, she steered the conversation back to safe territory and soon they were all chatting and laughing as they went.

They were about halfway to her old room when Rogue stopped, Kitty bumping into her back and saying, "Warning, please!" Peeking around her friend at the road block she understand both the quick stop and the silence. Remy stood just above Rogue on the stairs.

Kitty heard Bobby whisper, "Shit."

But after a few frozen seconds Remy smiled, said in a low voice, "_Pardón," _and swept out an arm as he stepped aside to let them pass.

For a moment, Rogue continued to stand and stare at him, saying nothing. So Kitty poked her and then Anna Marie was hustling, but the chatter and laughter from a moment before were silenced. Kitty slanted Remy a look as she passed; he returned it with a raised brow and a shrug.

Only when the procession had reached Rogue's door did Kitty speak again. "Rogue, look, that was awkward but I'm sure he wants to talk to you."

"I'm pretty sure he don't, Kit, and who could blame him?" She cleared her throat, pushed her glasses up into her curling hair. "Okay, presents now or later?"

Kitty shook her head and opened her mouth, thinking this avoidance was as dumb as them having spent the last couple of years on separate continents, when Bobby's hand brushed her elbow and he answered lightly, "I think now, Rogue. I'm expecting something amazing."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I actually have nothing to say except THANKS FOR READING, as always. You all are the best.

Oh, and a Cajun song: Chris Ardoin's Back Home [Copy and Paste: /-UHZK0gZVLo] I could hear it on Rogue's car radio as she drove back to the mansion.


	45. Chapter 44: What We've Got Here

**Chapter 44:** What We've Got Here...

**O**ver the next week Anna Marie and Remy were forced to acknowledge each other. They met in the hall and nodded politely or moved aside so one could pass the other. They sat in the sunshine together during a meeting in which Rogue was officially welcomed to the team. Once, he passed her ketchup for her fries at dinner.

With Logan, everything had been simpler. She'd found Logan in the garage that first day, grease smeared on his cheek and a knuckle bleeding as he worked on a bike parked near her cherry red Triumph. "Hey, bub, watch the paint."

His nostrils flared before he turned. "Yours?" Rogue nodded. "You rebuild it?" She nodded again, her mouth curving slowly. "Then get your ass over here and lend me a hand."

Just like that, they were fine. And though he looked at her eyes for a long time as he passed a wrench to her, his only comment was, "Looks good on ya, kid."

Of course, she'd been talking to Logan while she was away. He'd seen her face on the computer screen. At first. He'd answered questions about the Triumph when she'd been fixing it and gotten stuck. Maybe that was why he'd forgiven her for going or maybe it was because he was a runner too. Or maybe it was because she hadn't broken his heart.

* * *

**I**t was at least two weeks before Remy and Anna Marie were truly alone. Remy was dressed to go out though the long summer day hadn't given up the light for the dark yet. Rogue was in the garage, tinkering with her car. The doors were up and music bumped. She shook her ass in the air, faded denim cut offs hugging it tightly. In another life, he'd have smacked her ass and made a joke. In this one, his jaw went tight and he shut the music down only to hear her voice drift from underneath the hood.

"Hey, now, those're my girls, _Bonsoir Catin_. You don't just turn them off." Without rising she twisted to look over her shoulder at the offender, her mouth in a curve until she saw Remy. Immediately, her lashes dropped and she straightened.

She was grease smeared, curling hair tangled up in a messy knot. Her tank top had bleach stains and her boots were about a million years old. She shouldn't have cared, but she did. Maybe because he was wearing black pants and Ferragamos, a dark purple shirt tailored perfectly, and the five o'clock shadow roughing his jaw was an artful counterpoint to the clean, modern lines of his clothes. He was going out. He'd come back smelling of perfume. "Guess you know who they are."

Gambit didn't answer, but he took some keys and started towards a car on the opposite side of hers. Rogue watched him with her chin slightly dipped. "Do you got a minute?"

He kept walking and she was sure he intended to ignore her. But as he got to the door of the dark blue Porsche the Cajun turned. He started to speak but something stopped him. Rogue knew what it was and cursed herself a little for not having kept her head down.

"I don't wanna talk about them right now."

For a moment, he kept looking at her eyes, then his expression shut down and his low, liquid voice said, "'Course not. It's all gotta be your way, no? Time's up then, Rogue."

She darted around cars and grabbed his door before he got it shut. Looking down at him she knew he was looking up into irises that were fractured, changeable. The color never locked down anymore. When she'd given in it hadn't been to the voices in her head, but to the idea that she would never be singular; she'd given up the idea that she could tuck all those pieces of herself into boxes and open them only when it was convenient. It didn't work that way; she didn't work that way. So now her eyes shifted colors, the green often shot through with blue or gray, rimmed with white, or hazing into red and glowing. It was just a physical manifestation of what was going on inside of her, powers ebbing and flowing, naturally and always available, buzzing just under her skin. It wasn't unpleasant, that awareness. But it was too much to explain right then.

"I'll tell you everything but if I've only got sixty seconds then I want to tell you this: I missed you.

"I'm not sorry I left. I won't be because I'm okay now, for the first time ever. But I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I—"

"Sorry you cut me off? Sorry you decided I wasn't important enough? Or sorry you decided I wasn't smart enough to make my own decisions 'bout what I was and wasn't willin' to wait for?"

"I had to put me first. I had to focus on me without worrying about what I was taking from you in the process or how what I was going through would affect you. I'm sorry that hurt you. I'm sorry I lost you," emotion cracked her voice and her hands tightened on the door till the metal edge bit painfully, "lost your friendship. Sometime I'd like to tell you 'bout the last few years, maybe hear about yours."

Remy's eyes burned up at her. "That's easy, baby. Her name's Yaxeni and she's an artist. She got a show in de City right now. You should check it out; though I guess you already got a first hand look at the subject."

Her fingers went limp, he snagged the door from her hold and slammed it. Neither one of them felt better as he peeled out and left her in the silence.

* * *

**H**e'd thought about what he would say to her when he saw her again. He'd thought about how he'd put them back together, how he'd let her explain and apologize. But the moment he'd seen her looking golden and gorgeous, strong and confident, as if the two years without him had made her better, Remy forgot all of those plans. Remy had forgotten seducing her into remembering what it was like between them, into making them friends again. And when she said she wasn't sorry for leaving him behind something inside had snapped, some angry hurt part he'd been ignoring for the last two years of his damn life.

From that night on, when he saw her in the mansion he left the room, the hallway. He couldn't refuse to train with her, but Gambit refused to be part of her team. He avoided coming up against her as an opponent either, instead tagging out, letting himself die and his team lose rather than fight her, rather than be in that close proximity.

He was about to do it again when she was suddenly in front of him, smoke billowing and buildings tumbling around them. "Oh, no, you don't. I want a clean fucking win, Cajun."

He put his hands up. "I surrender. You win."

"_Arrete_. Why're you here if this is how it's gonna be? You ain't been in the damn mansion for two years but I come back and so do you to what? To ignore me an' make me feel worse? What the hell kinda games you playin', Gambit?"

"I done told you once, Rogue. With you, I ain't never been playin'." He turned then, walking down an alley, towards fighting. If she refused to take him out, he'd get a simulated officer or mutant to do it.

But she was there again, crashing in front of him and slamming bare hands to his chest. He was covered, but it was the closest they'd been since she'd ran away from him, ran to the Blackbird and Scotland.

"Get your hands off of me."

"Make me," she snapped back, chin jutting, eyes that were mostly green glowing up at him, fucking glowing.

He stepped back. She followed. He moved to the side, so did she. "You don't wanna do this, Rogue."

"Sure I do, sugar. I've been wantin' this for weeks. Wanted somethin' else right up until you ignored me," she purred.

He snapped at the not at all subtle intimation. His hands snagged her wrists and pulled them away, tossing her arms aside. "Get the fuck away from me."

"No way, _cher_. I sure am done with runnin'. That's what you want, you give it a try. I might learn to like doin' the chasin' after all. Someone once told me it all depends on who you're chasin'."

A charged card flipped out, she caught it, snuffed it. His eyes narrowed and the bō staff came out, snapped into its full length; as it did, Rogue attacked.

Remy couldn't take her down and she wouldn't, or maybe couldn't, take him down either. Naw, had to be she was playin' with him 'cause he'd seen her use Magneto's power and pull a building down during a sim. Seen Cyclops' lazer eyes take out a tank. Watched her bring the rain and go toe to toe with Storm.

"Stop playin', Rogue, and just take me the fuck out." He growled in her face. He had her pinned against a wall.

Her head snapped forward and he managed to pull back to miss the blow, but was distracted so that her knee slamming into his ribs was a total shock. "I'm tryin'," gritted between her teeth.

"Use some fuckin' abilities and end this, damn it!"

"It don't work like that, Cajun!"

"I've seen you—"

"You ain't seen nothin' but your own ass 'cause your head is stuck so far up it! You want," he landed a kick to her gut, she grunted and stumbled, then followed up with fist that glanced off his jaw, "to know 'bout me all you'd have to do is ask!"

He grabbed her, charging her shirt; she groaned. "Aw, hell." Faces so close their breath mingled, eyes locked together, it almost didn't register with him when she said, "Sorry, sugar," before her lips landed on his.

* * *

**Author's Note:** HI! Guys, guys! 300 follows! Woop! I love you all!

Here's more, as requested, although I somehow doubt the ending of this chapter will leave you satisfied. I'm working all of the jobs and all of the hours lately, so it'll probably be a bit before you get an update. (Well, I'm going on vacation next week, so if it is nice and chill I may write and you may get updates sooner, but more than likely we're looking at July before another post.)

I hope you all are having all of the most wonderful thing because you rock and it's such a nice zip to get on and see more follows and likes and reviews. Thanks for brightening my day. Always.


	46. Chapter 45: Unseen

**Chapter 45: **Unseen

**H**e woke up in the infirmary. When he moved, Remy saw a flash of white and then Jean's voice murmured, "Ah, you're awake."

Sitting up, he started to ask what the hell happened when he remembered: Rogue's mouth pressing against his, the taste of apples and honey, the familiar warmth of her body pressing to his, and just as his hands had gripped her hips…nothing.

Cursing vividly in French he dropped his bare feet to the cold tile floor. "Don't even try to keep me," he warned as Jean approached.

"I won't." She tipped her head, watching him, considering, before continuing. "You didn't leave her much choice."

"We always got choices," grimly as he made for the door.

"Sometimes its hard to see them."

"You tryin' to give me some sage advice, Jean?"

"I'm telling you what you already know. People make choices because they think they're right or best or they don't see any other way. We can judge them, shut them out, make them suffer for a lifetime-or we can choose not to lose the people we love." She didn't give him an opportunity to answer, turning away, back to whatever work she had while the door swished open in front of him, opening onto a long, empty hall.

* * *

**K**nees tucked up, Rogue dropped her head on the tops of them and coiled her arms around her legs. "I cain't do this, Kitty."

"Sure you can, Rogue." Kitty continued tucking Bobby's books in among her own. They were actually making progress on getting the two of them settled in their new, slightly larger quarters. Rogue was "helping."

Rogue didn't bother looking at her friend. Her voice came back muffled. "He hates me. He hates me an' then I go an' kiss him t'knock him out? What is wrong with me?"

Kitty laughed and that drew a look: green eyes on a black sclera glittering and narrowed. "Why did you come back, Rogue?"

The woman in question turned her head, tucking her cheek on her knees and continuing to look at Kitty skeptically. "I got a handle on things now. I can be a part of the team. I can help other mutants maybe."

"You didn't think Remy would be here?" She tapped a book against her chin, pondering where comic books should go. "You didn't hope he would be?"

"I didn't think he would be." Anna Marie wiggled her toes, individually wrapped as her socks were more like gloves. "Kitty, I, oh, God, this is embarrasin'. I went to see him."

At that, Kitty's head whipped around, the trouble with where to house Bobby's comic collection forgotten. "When? Where? Why didn't either of you tell me this?"

Miserable, Rogue closed her eyes and confessed. "He doesn't know an' I didn't tell anyone not after I….I tracked him down when he was with that artist. Yaxeni."

"Rogue, you didn't."

She peeked and could see the sympathy on Kitty's face. It stung. "Sure did. Right after I was cleared to be on m'own, he was m'first trip. I thought if he wasn't—, if he hadn't fallen…but there he was with her in the middle of the jungle and they spent more'n half their time naked and covered in paint and I….I was still gonna go see him. I was gonna explain everything but I heard him laughin'. He picked her up and he spun her around and he was just, he was laughin'."

She'd felt so helpless, watching him and knowing that she'd never given him that. With them everything had been fraught and tense and risky. Every kiss, every touch had bled him into her and edged her closer to a loss of control. With them, everything would still be fraught. Even with the amount of control she'd gained, the one thing she hadn't learned to do was turn the mutation completely off. They'd never be able to spend days naked and covered in paint.

"Oh, sweetheart."

"She's here, in New York. I guess maybe that's why he came, really. I thought it was 'cause of me but she's got this show and he really just followed her back and I'm an idiot." She dropped her face back into her up-drawn knees and groaned so she didn't notice the door open on Bobby with another box or Kitty waving him off.

Once Bobby had shut the door quietly Kitty said, "He isn't with her."

Rogue dropped her legs, crisscrossing them, and planted her palms on her thighs. "He told me he was."

"He's a liar." Rogue's snorted laugh caused Kitty's mouth to twitch as she betrayed a friendship without a twinge. It was for his own damn good; that stubborn ass Cajun might hate her for a while but he was going to thank her later. She was sure of it.

"He's a liar, Marie. He wanted to hurt you. He spent some time with Yaxeni, yes. He's not in love with her. And he sure as hell isn't with her now," she continued, giving away the last of his secrets without a qualm. "He came back for you. He came back when I called and told him you were coming home."

"Kit-"

"No. You did what you had to do. And it hurt people, worried them, but you needed to put yourself first and there is nothing wrong with that." Kitty was fierce on that point. "I understand it and when he stops pitying himself and nursing his wounded pride he'll understand it too. Now, are you going to wait for him to come around or are you going to knock some sense into him?"

Rogue stared at her friend, speechless. Whatever she felt about Kitty's speech her face was blank. At then she smiled, wide and bright. "I'm going to seduce him."

Kitty felt the first stirrings of unease about revealing truths not her own. "Uh. Rogue? I don't know if that's the best plan."

Rogue's grin went sly and sultry. "S'what he did to me. Spent months at it. First into trustin' him, then into bein' his friend, and finally into his damn bed. Think it's bout time that Swamp Rat got a taste of his own medicine."

* * *

**B**obby, still standing awkwardly in the hallway, heard the sudden peal of their laughter and grinned in response. Remy, walking down the hall at precisely the moment Rogue had decided on his fate, paused to look at Bobby, then the door, then back to Bobby. "Good luck, _homme_. You gonna need it."

Bobby should have let him walk away, instead he dropped the box he'd still been holding on the floor and jogged the few steps necessary to catch up with the Cajun. "Uh, Remy?"

Red-on-black eyes slanted towards Iceman, but he didn't slow his pace. "Yeah, _homme_?"

"I realize that it isn't my business-"

Remy's mouth twisted sardonically. "If it aint' your business, kid, why don't you stop right there, yeah? Save us both some grief."

Bobby stepped in front of the lanky mutant and stopped. "I lied. It's my business because I loved her and you took her." When Remy went to speak Bobby lifted a hand. "No. I'm with Kitty now. I'm in love with Kitty and in six months she's going to say yes when I ask her to marry me. But I loved Marie first so I know what it's like when she walks away. And I know what it looks like when she looks at you half-scared with wanting something she thinks she can't have and doesn't deserve."

Remy knew his eyes had kindled and it was sheer will power that the rest of his body remained loose and relaxed when his fingers itched to curl, to land a punch on that pretty boyish face staring him down. "You want me to apologize, _mon ami_? Bon. Let me do that. Sorry I stole your girl so you could go be happy wit Kitty. Turns out, Rogue'd just have broken your heart a little later, so mebbe you oughta be thankin' me, no? Looks like you da one got de better girl."

Bobby didn't respond, his gaze focused beyond Remy's shoulder. With a sinking feeling, the Cajun knew who was there. But that feeling didn't show on his face as he turned to see Rogue standing in the hallway, rainbow toes and tousled hair, pale blue track shorts and a Tegan &amp; Sara shirt slipping off of one shoulder. When he met her eyes, eyes that were still tainted with him, he forced his lips to curl. "Well, ain't dis awkward. Two exes and ain't neither of 'em sad t'be past tense, _chere_. Pardón. I got plans, me, that are a little less complicated."

Remy stepped around Bobby and Bobby didn't try to check him, instead reaching for Rogue. She jerked back. "No, he's right, you know?"

The words followed Remy down the stairs, what came after was too muffled to understand, but he couldn't un-hear her confirmation. He'd spent months trying to convince her she was worth…hell,everything and in one second he'd reneged on all he'd ever promised her.

* * *

**Author's Note:** HI! I love you people. I know this is short, but I wanted to give you sooomething and I've rewritten this chapter so many times I thought it was best to let it go be out in the world. I have started the next chapter, but, again, with all the jobs I don't know when I'll get it finished. However, come August 8th I should be back down to a non-insane schedule so I'll get to some faster updates. Hope you enjoyed! I also hope you all are having a wonderful summer!


	47. Chapter 46: Expectations

**Chapter 46: **Expectations

**H**e stayed away from the mansion. Rogue was glad of it. Glad not to see him after the nasty hole his words had left her with. But, then, they weren't really nasty, were they? Only true. She'd left Bobby for Remy, no matter what spin she'd put on it at the time; the truth, boiled down to its essence, was that she'd broken things off with Bobby because she had feelings for Remy. Bobby was happier now and so was Kitty. They had a bright and shiny future ahead of them. And maybe that was just life, the give and the take. She knew she had a choice to make: accept the way things were between them, attempt to build a bridge back towards a friendship, or go all-in and let it be known she wanted the life they'd started to build together only now it wouldn't rest on the broken foundation of her mutated psyche.

* * *

**H**e stayed away for two days and when he came back, braced for a confrontation, spoiling for one really, she was gone. It was Jubilee who blurted it as he angled himself in next to the firecracker at the kitchen counter to snag a plate for the dinner she'd made. Remy thought he could hear something ripping and looked down at Jubilee, fingers arrested on the stack of pale blue plates. "Anna Marie's gone?"

Remy didn't notice that it was the first time he'd called her that since his return, but others did. Jubilee looked at him with shrewd and pitying eyes. "Yep. She's a gone girl." He continued to stare at her, arm stretched up, body immobile. Jubilee's gaze slid to the table where Scott and Jean were watching, where some of the newer students were pretending not to listen. "'Course, she and Piotr and Kit and Bobby'll be back by tomorrow night, probably. Checking out a new student shouldn't take longer than a day and they left this morning so…." She trailed off, shrugged, and then left him for the table where she mouthed, without sound, "He's _so_ still in love with her," to Jean and Scott.

Jean smiled slightly, dipping her head to hide it though Scott laughed loud. No one brought up the awkward lapse through dinner but it was definitely whispered about among the students later that night.

Remy, for his part, pretended the entire thing had never happened. He refused to think about that fleeting moment when he thought Jubilee had meant Rogue had left, all the way gone this time, running because of something he'd said.

But pretending only got him through dinner. No one in the mansion seemed willing to work with his desire to avoid the multi-chromatic eyed mutant. She'd have barely had time to unpack the next afternoon when they were called together with Bobby and Jubilee. Logan had a mission for them. A real live, out in the world mission. Seemed Cyclops, Storm, and Logan had decided Iceman and and the Firecracker would make a good addition to two thieves. "You want us to get in and get out, find out what they know and not get caught. You jus' need to send me, _mon ami._ I am de Prince o' T'ieves, no?"

"That isn't how we do things, Gambit, as you well know," Scott answered, calm and boring and smug behind his visor.

"Two of us make it more likely we get caught," Remy shrugged as he spoke as if it didn't much matter. "An', hell, Kitty could just phase through the damn walls. Don' need no other special skills. Mebbe you send me and her, den, yeah?" He smiled at Bobby. "Me an' de Shadow Cat could have some fun together down in South Carolina."

Bobby, angled just slightly in front of Rogue where they sat together across the table, didn't rise to the bait. Unfortunately, Rogue did. "Oh, for cryin' out loud. Could ya'll excuse us for a minute?"

When Logan's growl threatened to turn into a very vivid refusal, Scott cut the other man off and the rest of the mission team left the room. Gambit, leaning back in his seat, tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Dis ain't necessary none, Rogue. I jus' pointin' out some flaws in de plan."

She snorted. "The only flaw you're pointin' out, Remy, is me." He felt a quick and sharp flash of something from her, too swift for him to decipher, before she had her emotions all locked up and her tangled-up gaze on his. "Do you not trust me on a mission? 'Cause if that's the case I'll refuse to go and we'll have to deal with it when you get back."

He'd've liked to have said that was it. He didn't want to say he hadn't been able to eat apples since he'd finally agreed to walk away from her. He didn't want to say that traveling with her brought up memories, sharp and painful. That her laugh made him ache and when she was sad or hurting-fuck. "Let's be real honest, yeah, _chere_? I don't want to work wid you and you, I'm guessin', ain't feelin' real fond o' me after what I said. Dat don't make for such a good team, Rogue."

"I'm as fond as you as I ever was," her voice was too raw to be speaking anything but the truth, but she pushed up from her chair. "But you'd prefer you didn't work with me. I'd bow out and advocate for Kitty but she sprained her ankle yesterday. She's not going to be dodging through walls and safes any time soon. Maybe it can wait. The Friends of Humanity are an anti-mutant group but there's no reason so far to think they're all that dangerous."

Remy scrubbed a hand through his hair, anchored it at his neck. "Dat what we're s'posed to be findin' out."

"So we find out in three weeks instead of two days," she hitched one shoulder in a shrug, turned for the door.

She wasn't looking at him, but he was watching her. Her face, that sun-gold skin over her high cheekbones and jaw. He saw how utterly blank it was and sighed. "Yeah, an' anybody get hurt by them in that three weeks is on me."

And that had, as they say, been that. Now, they were easing along a roof together and he could just barely hear her breathing. At the slightest adjustment of his body, a flicker of his gaze, she reacted as naturally as if they were speaking. There'd been a time he'd have enjoyed the synchronicity. Now, he just wanted the damn job done.

They worked together in the dark, both hooded but their eyes shining in the faint light. His, he knew, were glowing. Hers were twisted up, the green he remembered all but braided at the edges in shades of blue.

Inside the old plantation house they kept close, her body slim and supple as they moved in, then split apart. She had quick hands, steady. He cracked a safe while she dealt with a computer. They were out again in two minutes. In under ten they were driving away in a black van, Bobby at the wheel. The Friends of Humanity, it turned out, were no Bubba Gump anti-mutant operation. From what the two of them had gleaned, they were going to be real trouble. But the only real trouble Remy had was the way Rogue sat in that van, the body that had moved like smoke now rigid on the seat near him. She took up almost no space but her fingers curled and uncurled in her lap. He could feel his muscles tense as if he were going to reach over and sooth her fidgeting fingers. Instead, he forced his hands to relax and closed his eyes. She wasn't his to worry over anymore. They could work together, yeah, they proved that and that, he supposed, was good enough.

* * *

**E**xcept, Rogue didn't seem to get the memo. She slid onto the elliptical next to him two mornings later. She had on headphones but she met his eyes and nodded before setting her workout and getting started. They didn't speak. He stayed for another fifteen minutes and then ditched the rest of his work out.

During their Danger Room session a few hours later she saved his ass with a blast from Scott's borrowed abilites despite the fact they weren't on the same team. He'd wanted to find out what the fuck she thought she was doin', but she'd gone down, distracted by saving his ass, and gotten blasted by Logan.

The next morning, never saying a thing, she handed him coffee where he was propped up against the counter with bleary eyes and still wearing the clothes he'd left the mansion in the previous night. She made gumbo for dinner.

Two nights later it was her turn to pick the movie in the common room and she put on Serenity. He left before the opening sequence was finished. What the hell was she up to?

And it didn't stop. She came back from a mission that had taken her to Louisiana with beignets, fresh baked beignets from Café Du Monde, still warm when she left them beside him on the bench where he'd been lounging with Storm. The weather witch raised her brows at the odd exchange. Remy's jaw clenched and he picked up the box, shoved into her hands. "Not a dam word, 'Ro."

But damned if he'd asked the redheaded river rat what games she was up to. He wasn't going to grovel, to ask her to stop breaking his damn heart. _Mon Dieu!_ He wanted to leave, but he wasn't going to let anyone drive him out of his home, not again.

'Course, was easier decided then followed through on. Anna Marie was everywhere. She was bakin' apple pies on Saturday afternoon and practicin' Tai Chi outside as the sun crested the mountains and he started his morning run. When he went in to work on Savate, she was already there. If he mentioned he'd like pizza for dinner, she made it. When he told Jean he wanted to see a certain movie, it appeared in the common room and he damn well knew who had rented it.

At first, no one said anything to him about it. At first.

But by the third week of whatever the hell she was doin' it appeared too much for everyone.

Kitty was the first one to break. He'd been meaning to buy a part for his bike, but one thing or another tripped him up and he hadn't gotten around to it. But when he went to the garage, finally intending to pick up the damn piece, it was sitting on the seat. No ribbon. No fucking fanfare. It was just there. Kitty, having just pulled in with Bobby, eyed him as he eyed the part.

"Do you think it'll bite?" Her voice was laced with laughter. Until he slammed his eyes up into her pretty blue ones. "Remy." He didn't like what he heard underlying his name and shook his head, intending to silence the little Shadow Cat. No dice.

Her hand was suddenly around his arm and Bobby was dipping into the mansion with one worried look over his shoulder. "Remy. Come on. Talk to me."

"About what, Kitty? About all this fucking…What the hell is she doin'?"

"Helping?"

Remy shoved a hand through his hair. "Dat ain't what she up to an' you know it, Kit. What de hell is she thinkin' with dis? Everyone see what she do and everyone see me ignorin' it. She aimin' to humiliate herself?"

"I don't know, Remy. Is that what you were aiming to do when she first got here?" Kitty answered back, a little bite in her voice.

"You pissed at me, _'tite chatte_?"

"Answer the question." Her arms crossed while she waited, blue eyes bright and her mouth in a no-nonsense line.

"I wanted t'be her friend."

"Maybe she wants to be yours."

He felt his eyes burn. "Too damn late for dat."

And then Scott, two mornings later, watched as Rogue handed Remy a fresh poured mug of coffee then left the lanky mutant with only a quick smile. His shirt was undone, he had lipstick smeared on his cheek, eyes heavy, and he knew he reeked of perfume. She didn't so much as scowl. When he lifted the coffee to his mouth Scott made some disgusted sound and Remy lowered the mug again. "Problem, _mon ami_?"

"What are you doing, Gambit?"

"Drinkin' m'coffee," he took a sip, but watched Cyclops over the rim.

The other man shook his head. "She brings you gifts. She saves your ass. She picks your favorite movies and you don't have not one word to say to her?"

Remy remained silent.

"She's too good for you."

"Ain't that the truth," Logan growled on his way into the kitchen. Scott's smile then went keen and sharp before he left the two men alone. "She make that for you?" Logan jerked his head at the coffee mug wrapped in Remy's long-fingered hands.

"'Course she did. You out fuckin' around and she's wastin' herself trying to fix what don't need fixin'." Wolverine slammed cabinets as he got his own mug and poured his own coffee. But before he could finish girlish voices drifted from the hall.

"Mm. I'd take that to bed but no way in hell would I make myself look that foolish over him."

"Right? She's so obviously desperate. I thought she'd be a total badass, but, nope. Guess he's the only guy that ever got some of that—"

"Deadly snatch," they chorused, dissolving into laughter.

"Damn. He must be amazing in bed."

Their laughter trilled and then three young women slid to a stop as they looked from Remy to Logan. One of them flushed a bright red, another one simply disappeared-literally disappeared-while the third gaped.

Logan didn't grin, as Remy had half-expected; Wolverine looked at the bleary eyed Southerner and said, "Your move, bub," as three embarrassed students raced away (though only two of them were fully visible).

* * *

**Author's Note:** I LOVE YOU AND I'M SORRY! I've been so busy and sitting on this (and the next post) because I haven't been happy with the direction they took over the course of this four thousand words. However, no matter how many times I've tried to rewrite it, Remy and Rogue keep right on doing the dumb things I don't want them to do. So I'm stuck with it and now you are too.


	48. Chapter 47: No Take Backs

**Chapter 47: **No Take Backs**  
**

**R**emy tracked the maniacal, red-headed vixen down at the gym. She was sweaty, golden skin gleaming with it as she swung at the heavy bag. He noticed, because he was a fucking thief and noticing was what he did, that she was a far cry from the girl he'd walked in on exercising by herself a few years ago. For one, she was dressed in a sport's bra and tightly fitted pants that cut off at her calves. She was, as ever, lush but now also ripped, muscles flexing as she worked the bag. She had on headphones and her long tail of hair curled wildly, but the color-shot eyes were steely, her concentration absolute. Not to mention, the gym wasn't empty. A few other people used machines or hefted weights, but fuck if he had time for them. Cutting around her, he caught the heavy bag on its swing and nailed his gaze to hers. He waited while she stalled and hooked a finger around a cord to yank out an ear bud.

"We need to talk."

"Alright, sugar. I'm listenin'." She peeled out the other ear bud, looping them loose around her neck, then swung at the bag he held.

"Not here." Not here where people were watching, listening. Fuck if he wanted to keep bein' the entertainment around here.

She didn't answer, but she did straighten and work off the gloves she'd worn for her workout. She laid them aside and grabbed a bottle of water, taking a long pull, before snagging a small towel and gesturing with it. "Lay on, MacDuff."

Remy prowled toward the door, his own eyes burning, and wished the wild-eyed girl behind him to hell. Wished this conversation to hell. Wished he'd stayed in the damned jungle. But, as he hadn't, he led her down the hall to a meditation room-which was occupied. So he stalked on to the next floor and a computer room that was also fucking occupied. When the hell had they gotten so many students you couldn't even find a quiet place to talk?

After muttering sharply in French he took them to her room and stood expectantly outside of the door. Rogue eyed the hot-eyed Cajun and worried at the too-obvious temper that was so unlike him. So she didn't tease, but opened the door to her room.

It was a punch to his fucking gut. It smelled like her. Apples and honeysuckle and summer as her window was open, curtains fluttering in the breeze. His gaze snagged on a bookshelf crammed with diaries, a small pile of them stacked on the nightstand, and a picture of the two of them-no, _the_ picture of the two of them he'd given her on her eighteenth birthday.

"What de fuck you doin', Rogue?"

She shut the door behind her carefully, then moved past him while wiping her face. She set her water on the dresser, then hooked hands on either end of the towel now looped behind her neck before facing him. "Gonna have to be more specific, Remy."

"Don' you play dumb wid me, Rogue. De coffee, de beignets. You got half de school thinkin' you some love sick fool."

Strong shoulders shrugged. A lock of white fell into her face and she left it there. "People gonna think what they wanna think, Gambit."

"I ain't in love wid you no more." His voice was flat, impossible not to believe.

Everything inside of Anna Marie went hot; her chest and her shoulders tingled, her eyes suddenly scorched. "I didn't think you were." Her voice wavered and so she steeled it along with her resolve. "I figure you hate me. Figure you don't want nothin' t'do with me. And I guess I can understand that, but I miss m'friend and since you took the time to woo me into believin' we could be friends the first time around I figured it was my turn to win you back."

His eyes were glowing. "I don' wanna be you friend, Rogue. I don' make de same mistakes twice, sugar."

She wouldn't cry. It would be a cheap way to make him feel sorry for her, not to mention unutterably demoralizing if she gave in when he was so obviously going for blood. "Then I guess you get the benefit of havin' someone bring you your favorite treats and make your favorite meals. Seems to me you wouldn't mind getting' somethin' for nothin'."

He stepped forward. "Right now dey makin' fun of you for bein' such a pathetic damn fool for a good lay. You okay wid dat? You really wanna be dat girl?"

Rogue's cheeks flamed and blue spiked in her gaze. "I'm not being nice to you because I like the way your dick feels." She snapped, temper searing away the hurt and the embarrassment, at least temporarily. She stalked forward, closing the distance between them. "I'm being nice to you 'cause you snap like a junkyard dog at just about everyone, because I cain't look at your damn face without thinkin' how much its changed and I had somethin' to do with that."

"You feel sorry for me, _chere_?" Suddenly all that visible rage was gone, all that heartbreak she thought she saw in the red on black eyes was shuttered. His voice was low and soft, seductive. Trouble.

"That ain't what I said, Cajun. I miss you. I miss my friend, damnit, and I jus' barely see who he was when I look at you now. I want you-"

He didn't let her finish. Even Rogue wasn't sure how she would have finished that sentence because his arm shot out, snaking around her waist and pulling her into his body. "Dat right_, ange_? You wanna make me feel better? You want me, yeah? Mm. 'Cause I want you too." He didn't dip his head, he struck like a snake and caught her mouth with his. He pulled her body hard against his, fisted one hand in the tumble of her hair and seduced her with his tongue and his teeth, with expert heat and pressure.

She went wild, hope and desire tangling ferociously as she dove into that kiss.A frisson of fear, an edge of doubt lent desperation to her return kiss.

Rogue's eyes were heavy, pupils dilated and the iris almost only green when he pulled back. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, and a bare hand curved along his neck. He felt, for the first time since she'd come back, her emotions: desire, confusion. At the touch of more he yanked himself back, shut himself down and drowned his thoughts in her mouth.

Remy let his hands, bare fingers and gloved alike, race over her skin. His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw to her neck. And then he peeled her sport's bra up and fastened his mouth on her nipple. He should have been passing out by now; she should have been leaping away with red eyes and a smug swagger. Instead, she cried out and the sound, the fucking sound he'd dreamed a thousand times, went straight to his gut, his groin. _Nowhere the fuck else._ Nowhere that meant anything.

Remy hummed his approval against her skin and cupped a hand between her legs. She bucked into him, wild despite the barrier of gloves and spandex. And he knew she was soaked, soaked for him. With a wicked grin up at her, he yanked her pants down and sank to his knees so he could sink his tongue into her. An arm banded around her, his hand gripped the round of her ass and kept her from falling as he drove her up and up and over. After that first break she tugged his hair hard and he followed the pain up her sleek body until they were tangled and tearing at each other's clothes, until they collapsed on the bed and her surprisingly agile hands smoothed a condom on just before he plunged into the sweet familiar grip of her body.

After, he smoothed a hand down her hair, along the deceptively delicate curve of her back. He kissed her temple. He took one deep breath. Then, he rolled out of the mussed bed and pulled his pants on, yanked his shirt over his head with his back to her.

* * *

**T**he next morning, when he came in wearing the clothes she'd ripped off of him except now they smelled of roses and smoke, any trace of apple thoroughly wiped out, she didn't bring him coffee. Mostly green eyes raked him from head to toe while she stood barefoot in sweats and a tank top, hair heavy with water from a recent swim as he could smell the chlorine on her. Her mouth, that beautiful mobile mouth that had laughed the third time he'd made her orgasm last night, twisted. "Just another notch after all, huh, sugar? Don't worry. I got your message loud and clear."

He poured his own coffee.

* * *

**"W**hat did you do, Remy?"

Remy stretched his legs and flipped the channel on the television. Wasn't nothin' on he wanted to watch but, then, he also didn't want to be with his own thoughts so he kept on looking. "When, _'tite chatte_?"

"Yesterday. Last night."

He didn't look up at her, but he did curve his lips. "Which time, _petite_? You need pointers for Bobby? I don't know what he could handle what I did but me I could give him—"

"Shut the fuck up." At that, he did turn his head and look at her. A brow raised over his black jack eyes. "Did you sleep with Rogue yesterday then go out and fuck someone else?"

"Naw." He watched her jerk back, surprised, ready to believe him. He continued in a lazy drawl. "I fucked Rogue den went out and slept wid someone else. Jane, Rain, Lane….rhymes wid 'em anyway."

"God damn it, Remy."

"What de big deal, Kit? She wanted to get off. I got her off. Ain't nothin' to complain about." He looked back at the television and so didn't see the small fist coming but he felt it when his head snapped back.

"If anyone else had said that about her, you'd have taken them apart. Consider it a warning." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Remy didn't leave the couch for a long time, long enough the bruising and the swelling had set in by the time he bothered to grab a bag of peas and slap it to his jaw. Long enough that Jean had already treated Kitty's hand and was hunting Cajun. She found propped up against the counter, peas pressed to his face, firefly eyes solemn and unreadable.

"Let me have a look."

"It ain't so bad I need a doctor."

"Kitty broke a knuckle so I'm guessing its plenty bad. Let me look." Nudging his hand away, Jean managed to finally get him to dip his head and turn it so she could see the contusion. Her thumb brushed the bruise gently; he didn't wince though she knew it would have hurt. She probed his jaw, made him work it. "You didn't break anything at least."

"Don't think Kitty'll be happy t'hear that." Pressing the peas back to his jaw, Remy leaned again.

"Probably not. You deserved that," Jean's green gaze slipped to his jaw.

"Oh?"

"She told me what you said."

Remy didn't respond, watching the redhead impassively.

She sighed, frustrated perhaps, and leaned her hip against the counter as well. She crossed her arms and frowned at the tall mutant. "You don't mean that."

"You in my head, Jean, to know what I mean or don't mean?"

"I don't have to be. I'm your friend and I know you. You didn't mean what you said, but I don't know if you meant what you did while you were doing it. I hope not. I hope you didn't use sex that way with someone you loved, someone who still loves you." She saw a muscle flicker in his jaw. "Someone for whom sex, intimacy is such a difficult and fraught experience.

Lashing out with words is bad, we all do it; it leaves its sting and the words come back to haunt us. But to use an act that was about trust and affection and joy to hurt someone, well, that's not the careless act of a moment. That's hateful and vengeful. I'd be very disappointed to know someone I loved was capable of that." She lifted her hand then, cupping his the un-bruised side of his jaw. "But I don't think anyone I love is capable of that. I think they might use anger as a shield and I worry that in doing that they'll shield their own emotions from themselves until its absolutely too late."

As she drew back Remy caught her hand, kissed her palm before pressing it to his chest. "It's been too late for awhile now, Doc." Looking into her eyes, a vibrant green, he thought of Rogue's, murky and shot with red as she'd hooked her legs around him and flipped him on to his back on her bed. He thought of the slow smile as she'd punched herself down on him and then settled the softest of kisses on his mouth.

"I think I'm tired of pretendin' I ain't the kind who breaks hearts and disappoints." Rogue's mouth moving against his shoulder, salty tears soaking his skin-he'd tasted it moments later when he'd licked her lips, saying his name over and over as if she couldn't believe he was there, he was real. "I meant what I did, Jean, and there ain't no takin' that back."

He tossed the peas into the sink and left her, her green eyes heavy, and remembered looking back at Rogue on the bed. She'd tucked the comforter around her, held it there with one hand pressing it to her sternum. "I dreamed of that, of you and me when things were at their worst. It would bring me back. I'd always come back to you."

"I thought of you the first time I fucked another woman. Thought about how I could touch her as long as I wanted, be inside her without worryin' I'd get sapped unconscious. And I thought of you with the next one and the next one and the next one. But you should know, _chere_, I ain't gonna be thinkin' of you when I fuck the next one later tonight. Ain't nothin' worth thinkin' about."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Er...


	49. Chapter 48: Team Building

**Chapter 48: **Team Building

**I**t was a lie, of course. He thought about her when he went out that night and he thought about her when he ignored the women he could have easily taken to their beds or the their cars or the alley.

He thought about her alone in bed at night or in the middle of a Danger Room session.

He thought about her.

And that meant he needed out of the mansion. It was bad enough passing by Rogue, cool mercurial eyes and a wall of pure ice when his empathy reached out for her, but then there was Kit, accusing and distant, Jean looking like she was cooking in pity for him, and Storm with her too damn knowing lightning eyes. No way he could keep bumping up against those three and that was just plain ignoring Jubilee, Wolverine, Cyclops, and that fucking frozen pop of a loyalist, Bobby.

So, he made it known he was ready to move on, shake off all this domesticity and get back in the thick of things. He was sure that's why the professor had called him to his office in the middle of the afternoon. He was sure he'd be able to finally get away from apples and honey and the memory of soft skin and salty tears.

"Professor," the Cajun leaned in the door with an easy smile, "you got somethin'? 'Cause I sure am ready t'get back to work."

"That is what I wanted to discuss with you, Remy. Please, come in." Charles braced one hand on the arm of his chair and waited for Remy to sit. Only after the lanky mutant had lazed into a seat did Charles begin. "As you know, you were originally brought back to the mansion because you had grown quite isolated and disconnected."

"So I got connected." He gave a wolfish smile and thought to himself _Turned out real damn well, no?_

"Ah, yes. And then there was the setback."

That was one very understated way of labeling Rogue's defection, Remy supposed. "An' den I went out again an' I was jus' fine."

Xavier shook his head, his own eyes focused on Remy's face. "No, you undertook a personal mission without sanction from me or your team leader. Your pursuit was personal and private. I would not have had you go, Gambit. And I would not now have you go."

Gambit's voice went cool and serious. "Professor, I took a leave of absence to do somethin' I thought I needed t'do."

And Charles surprised him with his rejoinder: "And then you abandoned your mission."

The curl of the Cajun's mouth looked suddenly bitter. "Turns out I didn't need to be doin' a damn thing, Professor X. Now I got that straight, I'm at your disposal."

"If that's true, Remy," Charles spoke slowly, pressing his fingers into a familiar steeple, "then what I need is for you to stay and teach a class."

Gambit lifted a brow, the bitterness turning to amusement as he hooked an arm over his chair and stretched his long legs. "Dat some joke, Professor? I ain't no teacher."

"Not a joke. That's what we currently require." When Remy began to object, Charles cut him off. "Should you leave, at this point, it would not be under the auspices of the X-Men."

The Louisianan's face did not respond as one might expect. Rather, his mouth curved and he drawled, "_Non_, Charles? You kickin' me out?"

"Of course not. Your home will always be here. Your work, however, depends on whether or you not take assignments as they are given. I won't have you leave with a breach in personal relationships that could affect your willingness to ask for assistance or work with team members assigned to aid you." Charles leaned forward slightly. "Nor will I risk your well being by sending you out, alone, as you currently are. If you wish to remain an active member of this team, and I hope you do, you'll stay and teach."

"An' get back together with Rogue?" That was the undertone, wasn't it, the "breach in personal relationships"?

"Since when are you a matchmaker, Charles?" That faint bitter twist of his lips was echoed in the amusement of the Louisianan's drawled challenge.

"This is nothing of the kind, I assure you." Charles was, as ever, unflappable. "I require only that you are able to work with her and to see that you are able to mend other damaged relationships."

There was a heart-stoppingly long silence from the Cajun, long enough to make one think he might strike out on his own, a mercenary once more, before he finally gave an abrupt nod of his head. "Fine. We talk about dis again at the end of the semester."

* * *

**B**ut he might well have gone another direction had he realized he'd be co-teaching with Rogue. Which he found out when he walked into the first class and Rogue had been leaning on the desk at the front of the class. Not matchmaking his fine Cajun ass.

Charles had apparently tapped them both to take over teaching Team Fighting from Wolverine and Cyclops. And who the hell had thought that was a good idea anyway?

The goal of the class was to get students to understand their teammates strengths and weaknesses so they could fight as a more effective team.

After a miserable hour, they'd dismissed the students early and just barely waited for the last one to shut the door before rounding on each other.

"This your idea, Rogue? Thought you were done pantin' after me." Hot color washed her cheeks and her eyes went flinty. He used t'think she'd fry him with that kind of look if only she could; now, he knew she could and had to admire her restraint in not cooking him. Didn't stop him from needling her, though. "I know good and well your tongue work jus' fine, so mebbe pick it up off de ground and we can get one wid dis, no?"

"You arrogant son of a-" Rogue pressed her lips together and drug air in through her nose, let her nails biting into her palms give her something besides his smug face to focus on. "You an' I both know this was the Professor, but you wanna quit, Cajun, you go right ahead. Ain't no one stoppin' you from walkin' out the door."

"Ah, Rogue, dat's your specialty, not mine."

The smoky words were sharp as a slap. "Right. And yours is fuckin' people. Leavin' me to teach on my own isn't as literal as you'd prefer, I'd guess, but it'd get the job done."

The air was charged, emotions thick and dangerous in the air, as he stepped towards her. She notched her chin and held her ground. One more step and he'd be in arm's reach and then all bets were off. Except the door swung open, students rushed in, then froze.

Team Fighting had suddenly become every student's favorite class.

* * *

**B**ut it wasn't everyone else's happy place. Except maybe Wolverine's, though even he was struggling after watching the pair attempt to teach during a Danger Room session which ended with Rogue setting a lightning bolt, a literal one, to the Cajun's ass.

Amused, and wary, he approached Rogue after the session. Remy was spending some quality time in the infirmary and no doubt being issued a blow-up donut to sit on for the next week. "Stripes, I gotta ask, you plannin' on teaching these kids how to work together or just embarrassing your co-teacher?"

"Can't it be both?" He didn't laugh and that, of course, got her attention. "I'm tryin', Logan."

"Looks like you ain't tryin' from my side of it." When her mouth dropped open, he shrugged. "No bullshit, kid. You're better than this. Maybe Gumbo ain't, but I know damn well you are. Students are countin' on you. What you teach 'em could save their lives. Or cost it if you keep up this pissing contest." Wolverine could see the shock on her face and so he left her with it, figuring he'd rather be out of firing range when she recovered enough to be mad.

But even some quippy advice from her favorite growling mentor wasn't enough to shift the dynamic. She went into their next meeting about class intending to be calm and professional, to plan an outline for the remaining weeks and do so without raising her voice or calling him names. Her good intentions lasted thirty minutes.

Remy—not sitting on a donut because no way was he giving her that satisfaction—ran a hand through his too long hair and eyed her lesson plan. "You wanna have 'em do trust falls and play paintball?"

"It's called team building."

"If you're human, maybe, and boring as hell on top of that."

"Then how do you plan to get them to act like a team?"

"I say we take 'em out to de swamp or de dessert and tell 'em to survive for a week. You seen dat show, Naked and Afraid? I thin dat show's got somethin' there." He smiled, all white teeth and sly charm.

Rogue wanted to punch him. "We've been at this for two weeks and we don't got a plan and we ain't taught them anything except how not to work together. You really okay with that, Remy? You really okay with the fact that they might get killed 'cause we're doin' a piss poor job of teachin' 'em?"

"We?" He stretched, refused to wince at the pain in his posterior. "You de one lit up my ass when I moved you out de way of a bullet."

"You touched my ass."

"_Chere, _I had that thing between my teeth," he flashed them at her in a smile that was probably used to dropping panties, "no need to cop a cheap feel."

"You slimy, despicable, walking libido. I-"

"Trust me, _chere_, when my libido's kicked in walkin' is kinda difficult. You know why."

And then she really had punched him. He hadn't blocked or dodged or anything. He took the hit and looked at her with unreadable dual-colored eyes. "I think we done here for the day. Lemme know you come up wid some better ideas."

Rogue collapsed in her chair and wondered, for the thousandth time, what the hell Charles Xavier had been thinking to force them to teach together. But did she plan on asking him? Hell no.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I love you! I hope you are having a good holiday season. And, I love you! Thank you for sticking with me even when I don't post that often. And thank you for all of the comments and the crazy reading it all in one sitting! And all the well dones and your hearts are broken (because nothing is a bigger compliment as a writer than to make someone laugh, cry, or break their heart over the characters).

Also, ugh. Remy has been an asshole. That was so hard to post, but I couldn't make him be anything else. He was bound and determined to be a dick, so I had to let it stand. Now that I've given in to his assholery, the writing is going much faster. In fact, I have another chapter written and half of one after that. There will not be a full month between posting. AND I have time off next weekend and for Thanksgiving. I might actually be able to wrap this up by Christmas. O.o I won't know what to do with myself at that point.

I hope you enjoyed this! More to come!


	50. Chapter 49: A Little Bit of Lightning

**Chapter 49: **A Little Bit of Lightning 

**S**he wasn't the only one wondering. Jean had quizzed Cyclops, figuring he'd have been in on the decision, but he'd only shrugged then slid his arms around her waist and said, "He's a smart man, a brilliant man. Let's trust that he knows what he's doing."

Storm had gone directly to the source but hadn't faired any better.

Jubilee took a different tack. Setting her chin in her hand, she looked at Boom Boom across the kitchen table. The other woman had been back for two days but this was the first time Jubilee had managed to get her friend alone. "It's bad, like, not amusing bad, like, _bad_ bad."

Tabitha scooped a hand through her blonde hair. "Oookaay. But, honey, what I do is blow shit up. Puttin' it back together ain't my speciality, so why you tellin' me?"

"I don't know. They just…look miserable. And, you know, we weren't always so…nice to her. And now…."

Tiffany leaned back. "And now she's pitiful so you think I should go easy on her too while I'm here?"

Jubilee blew out a breath, ruffling sleek dark hair currently shot with magenta. "Tabby, you'd like her if you got to know her."

"I do like her. Which is why I'm not treatin' her different, Jubs. She's tough. I respect that." She pushed to her feet and looked at her friend with a little smile on her lips. "And I wouldn't mind putting money on her. Who's running the pool?"

What Jubilee didn't realize is that Rogue thoroughly appreciated Boom Boom's return to the mansion because of exactly that: she didn't treat Rogue any differently than she ever had. Or Remy, for that matter. If Boom Boom had something to say about the tension or the gossip she said it.

Her first day back Boom Boom had come in to the library where Anna and Remy were trying to plan classes and whistled. "They trust you two not to set this place on fire? I never did like to read, so it wouldn't bother me but I'm guessing the Prof wouldn't be too happy." When they'd looked at her, frozen in a tableau that spoke volumes about imminent violence, she smiled. "Is that sexual tension or just your mutations about to go off?"

Anna had laughed and relaxed back against her seat where previously she'd been cantilevered over the table shouting at Remy. "Tabitha. Glad your back."

Tabby had winked. "I know, baby. Don't set each other on fire today, I haven't placed any bets yet."

"That funny to you, _chere_?" Remy asked only after the little explosion setter had left.

"Mais _yeah_, Gambit. Everyone else is talking about us, placing bets," she gestured with one hand to where Tabby had sauntered back out with her brassy hair and brassier attitude. "At least she says it right to our faces." Then, she'd dropped her face to her hands and blew out a long breath. "We cain't keep doin' this."

He didn't need to ask what. They were three weeks into the semester. Their students seemed to have bonded over the ridiculousness of their professors, but progress wasn't something that was happening with the students or the professors.

But, hell, aside from that, every day Anna Marie seemed a little more tense. Her gold dust skin was getting pale again and looked stretched over the fine bones of her face. Damn it, she looked fragile and that twisted in his gut, as unwelcome as it was unpleasant.

"What's your suggestion, Rogue?"

"That we put the rest of it aside." She looked up, her eyes a burning green. He couldn't see so much as a speck of other color shimmying around the edges. "You hate me, okay, but you don't much like Scott or Logan and you work with them. So what's it gonna take to get us there?"

"And how you feel about me, Rogue?"

She was sure she only thought his voice was soft, as if what she felt was somehow still important to him. "I want to be able to work with you, Gambit. I respect your abilities and your insights and experience." His gaze continued on her, whether searching her or disbelieving, she didn't know. "So."

He was quiet for a long time and she didn't know what else she could add that wouldn't be incendiary. The silence stretched.

"I respect your abilities too." He gave a wry smile. "My ass won't let me forget 'em, no? Mebbe we convince the students the last few weeks were a demonstration in why it's important to trust your partners and to keep anythin' personal out of the field?"

Rogue laughed, short and loud. "You think we can pull that off?"

"Naw, _chere_, I know we can." When she smiled back at him, speculation and amusement tangled up, he didn't feel his heartbeat quicken. He didn't feel warmth pool in his gut. He didn't feel the urge to tuck a stray lock of white behind her ear.

* * *

"**A**nd that, _petite_, is how it's done." Remy grinned smugly at her, kicked his heels up on the scarred desk they shared when they were in the classroom and not the Danger Room.

Rogue laughed and shook her head, leaned her hip at the desk. She scanned the empty rooms as if still seeing the students, eating up their lecture, a.k.a. The Con. "Hell yeah, it is. Cain't believe that worked."

"That's 'cause you and me weren't that gullible at fifteen, _catin_." Remy pretended the endearment hadn't slipped from his mouth, pretended he didn't see Rogue's head snap up or her eyes go hollow and murky. "We sure did a good job of teachin' why you gotta trust your partner, now we gotta teach 'em how to trust 'em and how to work together. You up for dat?"

Anne Marie forced her lips to bow into a smile. "Sure thing, Gumbo. You want to meet later to—"

"Naw. Right now, Rogue. Lesson 1: Know your partner's strengths and weaknesses. You tell me mine an' I'll tell you yours. No more surprises in front of the class, yeah?" Or he'd never be counted successful enough to get the hell out of there, right?

With a sigh, she slid onto the desk and crossed her legs. Remy, having long since claimed the chair, gave her an easy smile. She kinda wanted to scrub it out or maybe just the low simmer of heat a concentrated look from him could turn up in her belly. "Okay. You're skilled at hand-to-hand combat, stealth operations, and you have a mutation that works at a distance. Outside of combat situations, you're excellent at undercover ops, gaining trust, and infiltration. I obviously won't mention the empathy," as that was a secret still, "but between us we both know it serves you in combat and out. You know technology, security, and explosives. You are, for the most part, even tempered. You're good with the details, but you see the big picture. Smarter than you portray yourself which means a lot of folks underestimate you. Purposeful on your part."

Rogue delivered her list as coolly as she was able. When she paused, though, Remy cocked an eyebrow over his firefly eyes. "I know I ain't got many shortcomings, _chere_, but we gotta come up with someone for the students' sakes."

"You're cocky as fuck." He laughed and she scowled. "Confidence is good but sometimes you just forget all about that and take risks that ain't necessary," her hand loosed and she began gesturing, being calm an afterthought now. "Or think you the only one can do a thing and that can be dangerous. Means you go off on your own without backup or you don't trust your partner to do what needs done." His smile was clean gone now. "And you're self-destructive."

And that was a step too far. Remy's drawl was easy though, when he said, with a tip at the corner of his mouth,"Pardón?"

"You push people away—"

There was a short laugh and a shake of his head. "And I thought we'd set this aside."

"Not _me_," she snapped back. "Storm, Kitty, Jean. Not to mention you're wary of men." As his list of friends seemed to underscore.

He snorted. "Mebbe I jus' don't like the competition, me."

Rogue's eyes narrowed, green but with a broad and too prominent ring of black. "You don't trust 'em but you don't see 'em as competition. "

The Cajun was no longer amused and considered that black rim around her emerald bright eyes. "You getting this from all the hours you spent downloading my memories, _chere_?"

"If so, you weren't exactly unwillin'."

A fair point. He'd been insistent. Didn't mean he liked her having access and making judgements now, though. So, he went on the offesnive: "Then ain't you gonna talk none about my libido? About the sex and the drinkin' and the women?"

"It don't get you in trouble. You get tangled up in sheets, not emotions." But her cheeks went hot as that wasn't entirely true. Still, one exception didn't make his love of women a weakness. "Though I guess you do tend to trust women over men and that unevenness has been exploited before."

"By you?"

Her jaw went hard, teeth clenching before she bit out, "The Chef."

"Lydia, _chere_. You still cain't say her name?"

Their eyes clashed and Rogue felt emotion flame in her chest, burn the back of her eyes. Fingernails digging into her palms, it was a full minute before she managed, "I'm done. Your go, Cajun."

"You're emotional."

"Goodie. You're startin' with my weaknesses."

Remy forcibly relaxed himself in the chair, hooked an arm over the back of it. "You're emotionally involved with your team, with the people you supposed to help and the ones fightin' against you" He watched her temper boil up in her gaze, in the fine tension at her shoulders and in the set of her lush mouth. "It's both a weakness and an asset. You never forget everyone, good or bad, is a person and someone out there probably loves 'em. You keep your compassion when a lot of the rest of us don't, through what would have turned most of us hard."

She looked away, down at fingers interlocking in her lap. "A'right."

"It's the same with your mutation." He wasn't pulling any punches, even when she flinched under the hit. "It can be an asset and a weakness. It's been exploited before, by Magneto, and no doubt makes you a target for those real interested in weaponizing us or in finding a way to turn us off. But your command of it makes you one of the strongest and most versatile mutants. Makes you a utility player and an MVP as far as the X-Men are concerned." And meant she was at risk for exploitation by her very own team because she was the Swiss Army Knife of the X-Men. "But you let your uncertainty and fear of it make decisions for you." When she started to interrupt, he held up a hand to forestall her, but he didn't continue down that particular fraught path.

"You're good at hand to hand combat and distance fighting. Trouble is, you often rely too much on the powers you've acquired and they sap you faster than your own." His eyes, glowing a little, were fixed on her face. "You excel at interrogation, fact finding, information gathering. You're good at stealth operations, breaking and entering, and have a skill set that rivals mine when we're talking technology."

"That's Forge, not me."

"He's part o' you now, Rogue." Which was, simply, the truth. "But you're awful eager not to disappoint anyone. Means you need a partner lookin' out for your best interest 'cause you don't. Someone who'll stop you from takin' on too much and stop others from exploitin' your desire to make others happy at your own risk."

"It ain't like that."

"Like hell it ain't," said mildly. "You're too willin' to sacrifice yourself. Like you ain't worth near as much as anyone else. That's damn foolish and dangerous for you and your partner." The weight in the room was palpable and so he flashed a sudden smile, "And you got one mean ass temper."

She laughed, though it wasn't really funny. He grinned, though he wasn't really feeling it.

"Sounds like we're good to go, no, _chere_?"

"Sounds like it."

"See you next class."

He left, but Rogue stayed sitting on their shared desk, wondering.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Because I can't wait! So, back to back posting. What do you think? Can they fix it? Is Remy forgivable?


	51. Chapter 50: Truce and Consequences

**Chapter 50:** Truce and Consequences

**P**art of the truce was not fighting in public. If they wanted the students to believe their abysmal first weeks as teachers was a ploy, a creative teaching method, they had to be seen as companionable and social outside of the classroom. Remy was better at pretending than Rogue was. A weakness of hers he'd failed to mention. Which meant she both relied on his easy warmth, the ruse of it, and was confused by it no matter how often she reminded herself it was an act and that Remy was nothing if not a commiserate actor.

"So, Dev's still starin' at you like a moon-eyed calf when he's supposed to be spottin' for his team," Rogue said as she poured coffee into the mug he held out to her after a particularly heinous session.

"And what the hell am I supposed to do about the boy? I done tried 'bout everything to discourage him."

Rogue giggled. Remy's eyes narrowed sharply on her face and that just sent her into a fit of laughter so hard she had to set her own mug down or spill her coffee.

"What's so funny?" Boom Boom sauntered into the staff's lounge in a sleek red cat suit. She definitely wasn't on tap to teach.

"Remy can't shake a sixteen year old boy's crush." Rogue grinned at Boom Boom, a sassy light in her multi-hued eyes. "Poor Cajun, so distractin' his looks are gettin' this kid's team killed on a daily basis." Remy gave her ponytail a sharp tug, though a smile lurked around his mouth.

"This is perhaps less amusing for the student's team," Piotr offered, looking up from the papers he was grading.

She winked at him. "No doubt, but I get a kick out of it."

Piotr's smile broadened, but it was Boom Boom who answered. "Well, why don't you just try tellin' him you got a girlfriend, Gambit? Or twenty."

"That might be hard to sell," the man in question murmured over the rim of his mug, making a point of not looking at the big Russian as he grinned at Rogue and blushed under her winks.

Boom Boom sidled up next to Remy. "I could help you out with that. He'd just have to catch us in a nice, long lip lock." She pressed the line of her leather-hugged body into his, the siren red a match for his eyes as he looked down at her.

Tabby commandeered his mug and took a drink of his coffee, then laced an arm around his waist. "What do you think, Piotr?" She tipped her head to Remy's shoulder. "We make one hot ass couple, right? I think it'd do the trick."

The Russian, his smile gone and the color in his cheeks intensified, gave the blonde a long look. "I think your tricks are overdone, Tabitha."

Tabitha laughed. She gave Remy his mug back then slithered slowly away from the Cajun, letting her hand drag the curve of his ass before giving it a playful swat. "I guess Piotr still doesn't approve of me. " She pouted unconvincingly at him as he gathered his things and left to teach his next class.

She did at least wait until he was gone to finish her thought on it. "That's too bad. I bet once you get him behind closed doors he's a wild man. That blush? Mm." She shivered. "And there are parts of a man I wouldn't mind being made of steel."

Pushing Remy's mug back at him, she flashed both Rogue and Remy a smile. "Let me know if I can help with your class. I love to get hands on. Ciao."

Once she'd gone, Remy contemplated the red smear of lipstick on his mug then set it aside. When he looked up, he caught Rogue's eye and broke the silence with her name: "Rogue."

She blinked, shook her head as if coming out of a daze. "Hm? Oh, you know, I think I'm going to…"

In her hesitation, he found a small smile. "You don't have to make an excuse to leave, Rogue."

"I wasn't." He lifted a brow and she rolled her eyes. "This ain't about Boom Boom. You're free to…" a hand-wave was slotted in for a word, "with whoever. Of course. 'Cause we ain't…I mean," _Shut up, Rogue._ "I just should….I should….." He didn't look like he was going to believe whatever she came up with and who could blame him? She sounded insane. Giving up on the already failed subterfuge, she finished in a rush of honesty: "I don't wanna see it. I'm sorry. That's probably not fair and I'll figure it out. I just-"

"Rogue," Remy's voice was soft, familiar from too many nights of long, intense talks. "I'm not with Boom Boom."

Still, Rogue gave him a knowing, wry smile. "You're never _with _anyone."

"I was _with _you."

He said it so softly and still it hurt. There was nothing left to say to that, except the thing that would make her hate herself: _You could be still. _Instead of mustering up any type of response, Anna Marie turned and left the room.

She didn't hear the mug break when he slammed it into the sink, charged by the briefest touch and leaving burn marks on the stainless steel.

**T**hat exchange was a good reminder and probably saved her from a wound to her pride the already battered thing couldn't take. She hadn't, despite an initial intention to, asked him to hang out on a Friday night to go over some student work that was bothering her. At least as she sat poring over a video of her students, watching them go through each task, listening to their banter through her ear buds she knew she hadn't made a fool of herself by asking for his help on a night he'd have definitely refused in lieu of a date, or the promise of a willing woman as yet unmet.

She was maybe thinking about that, and not what was on her screen, when a hand landed on her shoulder. She yelped and flung herself half-across the couch before she twisted her head enough to see her assailant. Which was a very contrite looking Piotr. His mouth was moving, but she had the chatter from the students' communicators in her ears still and had to pull out her ear buds. "Jumpin' Jahoshaphat, Piotr, you 'bout scared my socks off."

"I apologize, Rogue. I did not realize you could not hear me."

She waved his apology off and paused her replay, though her heart was still racing. "That's a'right. Did you need somethin'?"

Piotr's smile was slight as he lifted a bag filled to the brim with books and his own computer. "Only a quiet place to study."

"Well, I can try to keep my groanin' to a minimum, but I make no promises." Rogue re-settled herself on the couch, shuffling papers and books to one side."Come on and have a seat."

"Why would you be groaning?" Asked as he took the offered space beside her. "What is it you are watching?"

"M'students. They're….I don't know. We had 'em assess each other and choose who they thought they'd best be partners with. Did it blind, no mention of ability aside from whether it was something that needed to be close-up or distance, no names, or genders. They did a'right pairin' up, I guess, but somethin' is just off. Gambit and I have a meetin' tomorrow to talk about our assessments and decide how we want to proceed for the next little while but," looking up, catching his intensely interested look, Rogue rolled her eyes. She bumped him with her shoulder. "Sorry, sugar. You gotta just tell me to shut up. You got your own work to do."

"I would not mind putting off studying." He reached for her computer. "May I?" At her nod, he resumed the replay and, heads bent together, they watched the students run again through the simulation. "If you had to take lead their next mission, what would you do?

"Hm. Put Sunspot and Canonball together in the crowd. They work well together and blend in better. On their own they get all tense and twitchy." Rogue tapped a gloved fingertip to her lips. "I'd get Astor up high to keep a watch on things. Girl's got a mind that's good at strategy, she could call out to the others where they need to move. Havok and Siena as another set of boots on the ground. " She hesitated over the next part.

"And Molly?"

"I don't know, sugar. I watch this and she….Bruiser's mutation is strong. She's got endurance and strength. Wipes her out a little fast and she can sleep for days if she overtaxes, but watchin' this I'd think she needed to stay back as a getaway driver if anythin' went wrong." Rogue turned her head, pulled back a little with a surprised laugh; she hadn't realized just how close they'd gotten while watching the video. "She's there with 'em, right there, but….I think she's holdin' back. I think she's afraid of makin' a bad move, so she doesn't make any move unless she's given direct orders. Might not be the worst thing in a soldier, but in an X-Man, we need folks who can think for themselves. Take initiative and work with a team."

"That is what it looks like to me as well. It is a similar experience in the strategy class I am teaching. Does that help, you then?"

"It sure does, sugar. Looks like Molly's gonna take a go at team leader. She's gotta start makin' decisions and backin' up her team." Amazing how just having someone else to listen to her brought her ideas into focus. "How 'bout you? Can I return the favor?"

"Unless you would like to grade 20 history exams," he tapped a stack of papers, "or take my pedagogy test for me Monday morning, I feel there is nothing you can do."

Rogue couldn't help but smile back. For all that mass and strength, there was something impossibly sweet and approachable about Piotr Rasputin. "Probably not, Pete," she patted his broad thigh with her gloved hand, "but if you need someone to quiz ya just give me a nudge. I'm gonna work on this class a little longer. If you don't mind the company, that is?"

"I do not mind at all, Rogue." With that, he pulled out his own work and set to it while she plugged her head phones back in and replayed the session once again, this time taking notes rapidly.

And, the next day, when she told Remy she thought their Bruiser-bird needed a hefty nudge out of the nest, he gave her a lingering look. "S'what I thought too."

"But you didn't think I'd catch it?"

"Didn't think you'd wanna be that hard on her, would wanna make sure nothin' was wrong before you called her out like that."

She might've. If Piotr hadn't said it was a pattern with the strategies she chose in his class as well. Feeling smug, she sought Colossus out that night to rehash her mini-teaching victory. She ended up settling in and quizzing him for his upcoming test. It was fun. And kinda interestin' as he answered patiently all her extra, non-study questions about his degree and his coursework. When she'd apologized, he'd told her it was the best kind of studying he could do.

Extra upside? Piotr never looked at her with worry, never asked her how she was doing teaching alongside Remy. So, she didn't wonder how she was doing or where Remy was at on his Saturday night off. Least ways, not until she'd crawled into bed.

* * *

**A**s they headed towards Thanksgiving, and the end of the semester, Remy found himself being treated a little less like the son of the devil or a poor, besotted sop in need of pity. Jean stopped lookin' at him like he'd just come from his own Mama's funeral and Kitty even suggested they go out for tacos and a movie. He didn't know what prompted the change, but he was too glad not to be at the center of the gossip mill. Seemed the one thing he and Rogue always got right was pretendin' to a relationship that was more than what they could manage: datin' when they were friends, friends when she could barely stand to be in a room with him.

She did it, though, no? Taught with him. Planned with him. And hadn't smacked him upside the head with her tablet or shot him in the ass with a lightning bolt or her laser gaze in weeks.

Chuckling to himself, he stopped at the low sound of voices coming from a fire lit room. He hesitated, thinking he didn't much care if two of the students were playin' hide the banana. Then he remembered he was a teacher now and doin' good was part of his soon to be parole. "_Merde_." Hoping they still had most of their clothes on, he moved quietly to the door. If shirts were off, he was leavin' 'em be. Well, he might just close and lock the door for 'em 'cause he doubted the other professors would be so forgiving.

Unfortunately, the room wasn't occupied by students.

* * *

**Author's Note:** **Jehilew**, your response had me laughing out loud. I DO NOT want to make a pregnant lady come completely unhinged. But, your reaction is exactly why I tried to rewrite that horrible, horrible thing he did. It just never worked. I couldn't make him not say something/do something awful. So, now we get to see how he/they/I (oh boy) fix this.

I love what you've all said about them being fixable, but that it can't be too easy. And, **Heartbreak Lane**, what a great way to phrase it: He doesn't realize he wants to be forgiven until it is too late. That's so very, very true!

P.S. I always thought Anne Shirley and Rogue were kindred spirits, so I HAD to put in the line about her not hitting him in the head with her tablet, though Rogue's tablet would be a computer and Anne's was definitely a chalk-slate. 3


	52. Chapter 51: Everybody's Got Plans

**Chapter** **51: **Everybody's Got Plans 

**P**iotr held out a penny. Rogue laughed and began twirling the copper coin between her fingers as deftly as if it were a much larger silver dollar. "I was thinkin' about all the things we take for granted. Like, I never really thought about how many classes everyone was teachin'. Or how they kept up with everythin' from missions to lesson plans to meals. I played hookie and ran off and didn't figure Storm and Cyclops and Logan and the Professor musta just been wishin' for one solitary day of quiet and peace."

Piotr was smiling at her, so she smiled back and pocketed the coin. "You too, right, Pete? Even when you were trainin' with us, you were already teachin, right?"

He looked down at the mug in his hand, Rogue always brought him an oversized one with a small mountain of marshmallows to accompany her favorite drink. "Yes, I still had fighting to learn. At home, I was only a farmer. Here, I taught Russian and agriculture and took college class while training. Now I teach history, Strategy and Tactics, beginning and intermediate Russian and take time in the greenhouses when I am able. Jean takes care of biology but is not much on growing tomatoes."

As in, even Rogue knew the otherwise exceptional doctor had a bit of a black thumb when it came to growing that wasn't why she amused just then. "What is it you are thinking with that look of "Oh, Piotr" on your face?"

She laughed at that, then stuck her tongue out at him. "I know you're workin' on your Master's Degree in teachin' now. How d'you do that, go on missions, and have any kind of a life, Piotr?" Rogue propped her elbow on the table and set her chin on it. Across from her, also folded in the floor, Piotr raised his brows as if he did not understand her question. "You do have a life, right, Pete? You don't just hang out with me in the library studyin' and gradin' papers?"

Color crept along the edges of his cheekbones. He was years older than the diminutive woman across from him, but many times he felt a young boy again when she looked at him with her mercurial eyes and half-smiles. "I have much work still to do."

"Pete," Rogue groaned the nickname. "That won't do, honey. I'm borin' as all get out and even I go out once in awhile." Rogue tsked playfully. "Boyo, we gotta get you a life."

"Mebbe he done got da one he want, _chere_." Remy's voice cut through the quiet. Neither Piotr nor Rogue had noticed him there in the door as they'd talked.

While it wasn't unusual for other folks to pop in, particularly Bobby or Kitty, or the both of them, now that Rogue and Piotr had established a routine, but this was a first for the Cajun. Rogue couldn't figure out what he'd be doin' still at the mansion anyway. It was Friday night.

"I think Rogue is not wrong, Gambit; I'm sure there is more to life than studying." Piotr answered and thank goodness. Rogue was busy watching, with narrowed eyes, the slow amble Gambit took to the couch they'd abandoned in favor of the floor. He lounged in it, sprawling all easy and comfortable.

"Ah, but that ain't all you doin' here, no?" Remy's black jack gaze passed over the debris on the table before flicking lightly over Rogue and settling on Piotr. "Might could be someone would think ya'll enjoyin' yourselves, no?"

Rogue tipped her head, fingers still curled loosely against one cheek as she cradled her chin in her palm. "Might could be, Cajun, that someone would wonder what you're insinuatin'."

"Might could be, Mississippi, that someone knows exactly what I'm insinuatin'." The conversation was no longer easy or light.

"Things that are none of your business, far as I can tell." Rogue's voice took on a snap, her eyes a hot little spark.

Remy smiled lazily as she bristled. "Jus' a friendly observation, _chere_. But I'll let ya'll get on back to work." There was a certain way the word work was emphasized that didn't sound entirely kosher.

When Rogue opened her mouth on something no doubt nasty, Piotr's voice stalled her. "Remy, enjoy your evening. Anna and I will do the same."

"I'm sure you will. Pete."

When he was gone, Rogue's grin was bright. "You called me Anna."

"That is your name, no?"

"One of 'em." Leaning forward, she scrutinized his stoic face. "I think you called me that just to needle him."

Piotr's smile flashed with a surprising dollop of mischief. He tipped his head forward, black hair falling forward. Gawd, Rogue thought, the man's gorgeous.

"It seemed the thing to do. Besides, he came in here simply to needle you," answered as if it were all so simple. " And, I like it, your name. Anna. It's an old name and a good one."

"I get the feelin', Piotr Rasputin, you been holdin' out on all of us." His smile, quieter now, was her only answer; Rogue laughed, completely certain she was right. "Oh, yeah, you have been holdin' out. You call me Anna whenever you like, Piotr Nickolaievitch Rasputin. I'm keepin' an eye on you."

* * *

"**I** swear, hand to God," Rogue raised her right hand from the water. "He looked right at him and called me Anna and it was like he was throwin' down the gauntlet. That's a man who is chivalrous."

"That's a man with a crush," Tabby interjected with a wry tone and a twist to her red-painted lips. They'd taken over the pool room: Tabby, Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee. A few years ago no one would have thought they'd have wanted a girls' night together, but it was becoming a habit. This particular night, they'd donned skimpy bathing suits, given each other manicures, and were now sipping various drinks requiring umbrellas while floating in the heated water under the glass-topped ceiling.

"What? Remy? Tabby, trust me, that man is done with me." Rogue answered as if that didn't make the edge of her heart curl like burnt paper.

"No. Well, maybe him too. Or maybe he doesn't want to see you with anyone else even though he doesn't want you because men." Tabitha wrapped her lips around her straw, sipping at her frozen drink and let the alcohol buzz through her system while the others waited for her to finish. "But I meant Colossus. You are going out with him, aren't you?"

"Goin' out?" Repeatedly dumbly, hand frozen with her daiquiri half-way to her mouth.

"Yes. Going. Out." Tabby gave her the side-eye when there was no further response. "Dating. Kissing. Fucking. Because, Please God, tell me about the fucking."

"No!" Rogue flashed a look to Kitty and Jubilee. "Did ya'll think we were seein' each other?"

Jubilee shrugged. "Kinda looks like it. You spend almost every night together locked in the library 'studying'." She gave the word library air quotes.

Rogue gaped when even Kitty shrugged. "I mean, I thought maybe."

"We're just friends. He's…always been kind to me. That's all."

Boom Boom snorted. "Oh, he'd like to be real kind to you, Rogue. What you Southerners might call pleasing." Kitty snickered into her drink and earned a scowl from Rogue.

"Pete's…he's …how could ya'll even think about him like that?"

"Big. Gorgeous. Quiet. How could you not?" Countered Tabby.

"Kitty?"

"Sorry, Rogue. Even me. We went on a date once, even."

Tabby cracked up at that. "You two ever though of just sharing instead of swapping?" She got a mouthful of water from two different direction.

Jubilee waited until thelaughter and the squealing had settled to bring them back to the important things. "So you really can't tell us if there's another reason he's called Colossus?"

"Oh. My. Gawd, ya'll." The others were laughing, lond and loud. "No. _No_." Rogue shook her head. Thought of Piotr's smile, his big body next to hers on the couch. No. Of course not. No. "What about you, fire starter?"

Taking pity on Rogue, Kitty nodded her agreement. "Mhmm. I might've heard that you took a long weekend and went to Scotland to spend time with a certain medical expert."

"Oooh." Tabby leaped on it. "Fess up, Jubs."

"I…did." Here the firecracker gave a coy look over one shoulder. Then, she flipped onto her belly on the pink raft that matched her bikini, set her chin on her crossed forearms. "I didn't think we was interested, not really, when I was there before. But we've kept Skyping and messagine and Facetiming. I," she buried her head in her lounge float, then peeked up, "I like, really, like him. Like, _like _him, like him; want to maybe make cute medical babies with accents with him like him."

"They might call that love, Jubs," Kitty deadpanned and the other girl looked horror-struck, then awed. "Ooh, boy. Looks like she's having an epiphany. We'll give her a minute. What about you, Tab?"

"Me?" The blonde rolled her eyes and slid a hand along the line of the barely-there gold bikini top. "With this body? Please. Honey, you're the one with the ring. We got a date for this frosty wedding of yours yet?"

There had been an ice-rink proposal with dozens of candles and enough romance to have switched a lot of teenage crushes Iceman's way. "I'm going to be a June bride."

"I thought Bobby wanted a winter theme," Rogue slid from her raft as she spoke, wading through the water so she could pour them refills.

"Oh, he does." Kitty held out her glass for Rogue. "And I want a June wedding. So, he's going to provide a winter themed reception." Kitty smiled, the look of besotted delight by now familiar to her friends. "

"Kit'll be the first." Jubilee had apparently recovered, though she'd maneuvered herself to the edge of the pool and spoke between texted sentences. "Who'll be next do you think?" Of course, she should know. Jubilee kept intense tabs on all the gossip, including burgeoning relationships and relationship status changes. The girl was more accurate and up-to-date than Facebook.

Tabby took exception. She kicked one long leg in the water, forcing Jubilee to curl around her phone (although it had a protective covering for just such an event) and squeal as she was soaked. "It's fine and your own fault. Stop texting Shane. And why do you say that like we all want to get married and pop out the next generation of do-gooders?"

Jubilee's nose wrinkled. "I'm not poppin' anything out of my vajajay. But I do want to adopt." After all, Jubilee was adopted and had one of the few sets of mutant-supporting parents that the Xavier alumni could claim.

"I have no intention of getting married. Ever. I might shack up if I meet someone really special." Tabby winked. "And special includes hot, brilliant, and ambitious."

Jubilee then looked to Rogue, a sly smile on her face. "What about you, Rogue? Does your Mr. Right include hot, quiet, reliable, and with a sexy Russian accent?"

Rogue filled her drink to the brim. She'd thought her Mr. Right spoke Cajun French and could pickpocket a Secret Service Agent without getting caught. What she thought obviously wasn't worth much.

* * *

"**Y**ou and Pete, huh?" That question had appeared out of nowhere and now it wouldn't die

Anna Marie sat on her bed, pulling on boots so she could go out and join the other folks making use of the cold weather and Bobby's the ice rink bobby kept reshaping for Kitty. "Me and Piotr, what, Gambit?"

He leaned on her jamb, gestured with a hand in his usual half-gloves. "Together. Datin'. Granted, mostly jus' hangin' out in the library which ain't too exciting, but _c'est la vie_."

Rogue stomped her foot down, then crossed the other over her knee to tug the other boot on. "It ain't none of your business what me and Piotr do together or separately, Swamp Rat." He'd made that choice months ago, standing almost exactly where he was now.

She wasn't the only remembering the last time he'd been in her bedroom. His voice was low and rough when he said, "Rasputin ain't the kind for a casual flirtation, _chere_. Don't get him tangled up and then drop him."

At that, her breath hissed in. She finished with her boot, zipping it sharply up, then rose and stuck her hands on her hips. "Like I did you?"

"I ain't the one said that."

"Naw, you wouldn't dare, would you?" Rogue kept her voice low as he stood in her open door. She crossed to him, stood practically toe-to-toe with him where he was slouched. "Not after what you said t'me standin' right where you are now. Not after kissing away my tears while revenge fucking me. Even you wouldn't have the brass t'do that would you, Gambit?"

Gambit said nothing else. And neither did Kitty or Bobby when he turned around to find them bundled up and waiting on Rogue, no doubt close enough to hear what she'd said. He'd always thought that sayin' about never going home again was a load of crap. Gambit figured he might just have to rethink that.

* * *

"**A**re you trying to be a horse's ass?" Kitty was helping him with that particular line of thought the very next day. She'd stormed right on in to the living room, flipped the television off, and shooed anyone who hadn't gotten the message right on out of the room.

"We gotta do this right now, _'tite chatte_?"

"Yeah, I guess we do." She sat on the arm of the couch, tapped her fingers on her thigh. She was considering. "I want to tell you a story about a boy and a girl." She held up a hand. "Nope, no interruptions during my story time. Once there was a boy. This boy had a hard life, but he got by on his looks and his smarts and his charm." Remy didn't even smug it up for the description Kitty knew he knew was him. "He won hearts and he left them in broken pieces for some crafty individual to collage into a table.

Then, Boy meets Girl. Only this girl's heart is already broken but not by anything as small or as fleeting as love. Life broke her heart. Life pretty much said "Fuck you, girlie" and then toyed with her emotions.

"Boy recognized himself in girl. Boy wanted to save Girl. Boy wooed girl, stalked girl," she gave him A Look, daring him to object, and got a hint of possible amusement around his usually mobile mouth, "and eventually won girl. Girl went temporarily crazy. Boy went on epic wild goose chase for an emerald that would save girl—Yes, I know that chapter too-but girl saved herself.

"This is, after all, a feminist fairytale of the modern age." Kitty accompanied the aside with a very pointed look before resuming. "Boy was proud of girl, came back to girl. They loved happily ever aft-Nope. No, I'm sorry. That's how it should have happened.

"Instead, Boy came back. Girl came back, still in love with Boy. Boy was a horrible dick to Girl and made her cry again and again and again.

"Remy. I said no interruptions." She waited for him to settle back down, wearing her teacher face. She'd only recently discovered she had a teacher face. "Eventually, Girl got the point. (Sometimes even smart, tough feminist girls take awhile to figure out some men are assholes.) Girl began to move on. Boy realized he didn't like that. Only he got to play with Girl. No one else. Boy decided to Get Involved where He Didn't Belong. Boy is on Thin Ice."

"That the end, kitten?"

Kitty tipped her head, tucked a swing of straight dark hair back over her shoulder. "You tell me."

"I get it, _petite_." Remy sank a little deeper into the couch; spread his arms across the back of it. "You warnin' me off."

"That was your job once." She watched him closely, but he didn't flinch. "Not that she needn't it, now or then. Rogue can take care of herself. But I figure, hell, what are friends for?"

Remy looked at her finally, all coal and flame. "So I guess you're sayin' you picked your side?"

"Remy, no. I'm saying I love you both and you're hurting the both of you. I see you watching her when you think no one notices. I see you tiptoeing in at two a.m. and you don't look like a man who spent a happy night." Kitty slid from the arm of the couch and settled next to him. "Remy, do you even know what you want?"

"I thought I did."

"When you fuc—"

"_Arrete." _A gloved hand was held up, warding off the words_._ "When I came back. I had a plan."

"What happened?"

"I don't know, Kit." He sounded baffled even now, giving up the casual lounge and sitting forward, forearms to knees. "I had pictured what it would be, in my head, so many times. I'd say I was sorry and I'd missed her. She'd say she was sorry, then somethin' smart ass." He laughed, a little, picturing it now. "We'd kiss."

"But she wasn't sorry."

"_Non."_

"She didn't have anything to be sorry for."

There was a pause and then, "_Non."_

"Oh, Remy. Did you just figure this out when she and Piotr started hanging out?" Cause, if so, they had another come to Jesus talk on the way.

"Naw. I've known since I walked outta her room that night." And wasn't that a kick in the teeth? The moment he'd said the irrevocable, he'd known he was making the biggest mistake of his life. And, _Dieu_, he'd made a lot of mistakes.

"Are you going to tell her?"

"She's movin' on, Kit."

"She hasn't yet."

"After what I done, she should have a'ready."

"Now you're deciding what it's best for her to know or not know? Thought that was why you were so pissed at her." She hadn't meant to snap, but there it was. "Oh, hell. I kind of hate you both right now."

"She deserves someone like Rasputin, Shadowcat." Remy splayed his hands palm up as if it was hopeless and obvious and there was nothing he could do against one simple fact: "He's a good man."

"So are you," she insisted. "Pigheaded, stubborn, temperamental, and impulsive, but a good man." Kitty smiled; Gambit didn't.

"Kit, good men don't do or say the things I done and said since she went off t'get better." With every word that lazy, Cajun persona disappeared a little, the façade of unconcern falling away. "Good men, they wait when the woman they love tries to sacrifice her own happiness 'cause she's afraid she cain't never be okay. They stick.

"They maybe go off on wild goose chases for big ass jewels meant to save her life, but when she saves herself they ain't even surprised 'cause that's the kind of woman they fell in love with." Remy scrubbed his palm at his jaw, wryness twisting his mouth when he spoke again. " Me, though? I didn't do none o' that. I drank. I fucked. I said…

"To her, the things I said? Ain't no way she ever forgets those shots. Ain't no way you can kiss the mouth that fired those bullets; those're the kind they cain't dig out, the kind that just moves around inside you and every once in awhile nicks some vital organ right about the time you'd forgotten dey was in there.

"When de semester's up, Charles, he gon' let me go. Dat's best for everyone, yeah?"

"I don't know about that." Kitty looped her arm through his and tucked her head on his shoulder. He tipped his head down to hers and they sat together, quiet, both lost in their own thoughts.


	53. Chapter 52: I Was a Fool

**Chapter 52: **I Was a Fool 

**T**hey were careful with each other, Rogue and Remy, in public and in private after that. It was as if they thought the other one was fragile, or that maybe the peace was. As if they were afraid of dropping it and having it shatter at their feet or maybe detonate, leaving wreckage they couldn't dig out from.

Remy hated it. A week turned to two and still they seemed to be so carefully balanced he wasn't even sure anymore what her face looked like when she smiled, for real, or laughed, or, hell, was pissed. Even their disagreements were polite. Fucking polite.

_"I'm not certain that was an appropriate way to handle that situation."_

_"Naw, chere? What would you recommend for next time?"_

Or:

"Rogue, I'm sorry you missed our last class plannin' session."

_"Gambit. My apologies. Didn't you get my email?"_

Who the fuck sent an email when they lived down the damn hall from each other? It made his skin itch. Made him think of Kitty telling him what a horse's ass he'd been.

It was all worse now. He'd sneak, sometimes, near to the library on nights he knew Rogue was with Rasputin. Not to spy. He just wanted to hear her laughing, make sure it didn't sound brittle like it did when he was in the room. Wanted to see her move like she wasn't a shadow puppet. He'd always liked the easy, loping grace of her, especially when she forgot to be self-conscious about her mutation. In his presence, now, she was stiff and not even anger could burn out the awkward.

It was time he tried something else.

* * *

"**I**'m sorry."

Rogue's head whipped and her eyes, muddy green and familiar, stared at him. She was elbow deep in a truck, grease smeared over one cheek, red-brown curls in a haphazard knot and falling all around her gilded face and shoulders. "What for, exactly?"

Remy laughed, wry. What wasn't he sorry for? Giving up on her? Pushing her away when she came back? Not grabbing her up weeks ago and kissing her senseless and telling her he still had those big plans and big words for her, if she wanted them.

He tucked his burning fingers into his pockets. "For a lot of things, _chere_, but right now maybe we jus' talk about me buttin' my nose in wid you and Colossus. I know I ain't got no right to…say nothin' 'bout what you do or who you do it with."

Deliberately, as if he were a cotton mouth in the water waiting to strike, Rogue reached for a rag and wiped her bare fingers on it. She edged away from the truck, unbending from underneath the hood. "No, you don't."

"You and me, we keep pretendin' things between us are one thing or another." Remy ducked his head, looked at her with a lock of auburn hair hangin' in his yes." I'm tired of pretendin', Rogue. Ain't no good at it when it comes to you."

Hope fluttered painfully in her chest. Rogue did her best to cage it. It didn't matter what he said. He'd made his choices. She couldn't forget that. "What's that mean, exactly, Remy?"

He wondered if she realized she'd used his name. He did. Ever since he came back he remembered any time she didn't call him Gambit. Hell, he even missed hearing her call him Gumbo, anything but Gambit in that faraway voice, like the one she'd used the first night he'd met her and nothing like the girl he'd slept tangled up with thinkin' he wanted to wake up like that for the rest of his life.

"Dat means I'd like to be friends again."

Rogue tossed the rag on the edge of the truck, splayed her hands at her hips. She wore leggings and steel-toed boots, a shirt that slipped from her shoulder and had an outline of New York City marred by grease and paint. "It didn't work out so well last time."

"Worked out pretty well. Til it didn't. Look, _chere_, I ain't here for very long. Probably." He'd made a deal, after all. "I don' wanna leave with things like this between you and me. You were…de best friend I ever had, me. And I know I been a _fils de putain_. But I'm thinkin', we got another month of school left. And after the holdiays maybe I'm back to bein' undercover. We could stay like dis, barely able to talk to each other widout blowin' up, but…."

"But?"

"That ain't what I want." He ducked his head, steeled himself. "It ain't what I meant to happen when I heard you were comin' back."

"Gambit." He hated the sound of that name from her just now, knew she was using it to distance herself from him. "Maybe we should settle for being colleagues. For…not cutting each other up every time we talk to one another."

It hurt, but it wasn't unexpected, was it? "Ah, me, I don't like to settle, _chere_." He mustered a smile; it hung crooked and not as self-assured as he would want. Though maybe she couldn't tell anymore when he meant his smiles and when he didn't. It had been a long time now since they'd read each other with any kind of accuracy.

"I cain't make you forgive me for…" _salty-tears and his name in a whisper_. He had to look away, look away from her and the memory of her. "For not bein' the friend I promised I'd be. And I cain't blame you for not trustin' me now. But, I cain't pretend no more, Anna Marie. Most of my life is just one big act. Never had t'be with you. You wanted to talk about…everythin' that happened to you when you got back. I shoulda listened. I'd like to now."

Rogue licked her lips, searched his face, his firefly eyes. When she spoke it was carefully. "I appreciate that you want to stop pretending. I don't think…I don't know if I…." Emotion welled, hot and messy, so she looked down at her boots. "Maybe we just take it a day at a time, Gambit."

"A day at a time. Yeah, I can do that."

* * *

**T**hat evening, Rogue tucked herself in next to Piotr on their usual couch. She was washed clean, smelling of apples instead of grease, the ends of her hair still damp. She wore leggings again and hefty socks, a sweater for warmth this time. He was reading. Anna sometimes liked to watch his face as his brow furrowed in concentration even when he read something amusing. "Pete?" She had her own book open in her lap, but she couldn't concentrate on it.

He looked up almost immediately, a smile lying lightly on his lips. "Rogue?"

"Why haven't you kissed me?"

Piotr's cheeks took on a hint of red, but his voice, steady, said, "Why haven't you kissed me?"

Rogue laughed at that, closed the book in her lap. She leaned forward to tuck it onto the table. "That's not a bad question." Turning slightly on the couch, she pulled her knees up, looped her arms around them. Gloved fingertips just peeked out of the ends of the sweater's sleeves. "Everyone thinks we're….together."

Piotr set his own book over the arm of the couch they shared. "Is that important to you? What everyone thinks?"

"No." She shook her head and tried not to think of Remy's unexpected apology. "But I guess I'm wonderin', today, jus' what exactly people….mean to me. So, I'm thinkin' I should ask. Do you want to be together, like that? Do you want…me, like that?"

Piotr looked at her for a long, quiet moment. Then he too shifted, pulling one jean-clad knee up on the couch. He wore a button down shirt, no doubt the same one he'd worn to teach in, though he'd rolled the sleeves up since they'd settled in for the night. "I very much want you like that, Marie."

A smile broke across her face and the uncertainty hanging in the air with her hesitant questions disappeared. "Then, sugar, I suggest we go on a date and that maybe you kiss me before I forget how that works."

"Are you asking me, then? On a date?"

Rogue, grinning, nodded an affirmative.

Piotr, also smiling, inclined his head to her. "Very well, Rogue. I will pick you up for dinner tomorrow night at 7:30. Now, come here and I will read to you." He offered his hand. When she took it, he tucked her into his side before opening his book again. Curling her legs beside her on the couch, she tipped her head into Pete's shoulder, closed her eyes, and let his voice soothe away any other words that had been tumbling around in the muck that was her mind.

* * *

"**S**ecrets suck." Kitty leaned into the cool strength behind her, Bobby's arms curled around her waist as he held her.

"I know, Kit." He kissed the top of her head, settled his chin there lightly. "But you can't tell her; it isn't your place."

"It could be, though. She's starting something with Pete. They're out on a date right now. And probably only because she doesn't even realize Remy's still in love with her." She twisted suddenly, slapping her hands to Bobby's chest. "It's like if that stupid priest had just told Romeo that Juliet would appear to be dead so don't lose his head and kill himself when it was just the plan."

It wasn't funny, but Bobby was having a hard time not smiling at his fiancé. His fiancé. Damn, that was nice. "That's a stupid play and if Romeo was so idiotic as to kill himself within seconds of seeing her dead, they probably wouldn't have ended well anyway."

Kitty scowled. "Robert Drake."

"Katheryn Pride," countered before he curled his back, leaning to bump his nose to hers. "I love how loyal you are. I love that you want to fix them. But they have to fix themselves, sweetheart. "

"They're both so stupidly impulsive and bullheaded. How can they possibly fix it themselves?"

"If they're that bad for each other, Kit," and this he said cautiously, "maybe they aren't meant to fix it. Maybe she and Pete will be good together."

She didn't like that answer, but Kitty knew he wasn't wrong. "Piotr'll probably get hurt."

Bobby slid fingertips into her long, straight hair. "Probably." He knew, first hand, how Rogue and Remy could leave others struggling in their wake without every noticing they had. "But he knows what he's getting into. He's watched the two of them. He was there in Scotland when we all walked in on them. You can't save him either, Kitty."

She didn't like that answer either. But, okay, X-Men, phaser, great friend—nothing in her arsenal could save them. Maybe if she could go back in time and shove a sock in Remy's mouth before he said that shit to Rogue, but, she couldn't. So she slid her arms around Bobby's lean waist and snuggled in, finding comfort in the solidness of the man in her arms. It had been so easy for them, falling in love and staying there. Maybe it was supposed to be that easy.

* * *

**R**emy, he figured not. Ain't nothin' ever had been easy, so why should love? And why should lovin' a woman like Rogue? He didn't think he could win her back, not all the way. Didn't think he deserved to, not after tryin' to punish her 'cause he was afraid he wasn't worth lovin', that he was no good for her. But that didn't mean he couldn't try, while he was still at the mansion, to ease the hurt he knew he'd put inside of her.

Kitty was right. He'd been a horse's ass. Maybe he could fix a little, just a little, of what he'd damaged if he could get back to being Anna's friend, someone she counted on, and someone she trusted. He'd done it once, right? He could do it again. If that meant ignoring his own feelings about seeing Piotr kiss her on the stairs of the mansion with moonlight shinin' off of the snow, that was his hurt to deal with, one he'd brought on his own damn self.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I think there's a rough draft of the rest of the story. O.o In the rough, and also minimal (mostly dialogue sketched in) form I've got it at about 6 chapters, but I'm thinking once everything is added it'll probably be 10-ish.

You all have been so wonderful and encouraging. I adore you. Thank you so much for sticking with me for a year and a half now. Thank you for letting me know your thoughts and getting so caught up you stay up all night reading or you get made at the characters and want to knock their heads together.

Title comes from Tegan and Sara's "I Was a Fool"


	54. Chapter 53: If We're Partners

**Chapter 53: **If We're Partners, We're Partners**  
**

"**O**omf."Remy dropped to the ground, hid a smile against the mat at the lyrical laugh above him. When he finally looked, Rogue stood with hands on her hips. She had a sassy smile to go with her superhero pose, hands fisted like she was Wonder Woman. It was a good look on her. "Gloatin' now, _chère_?"

"Hell, yeah. That was a straight, no mutation fight and I took your Cajun ass down." She lifted both arms, showing off her muscles. They looked good too, her arms and shoulders bared in a racer-back tank.

"First time for everythin'. Don't mean you can repeat it."

Rogue snorted. "Like hell I cain't."

Flipping to his feet, having gotten just the reaction he'd hoped for, Remy spread his arms. "Prove it."

Fighting wasn't exactly his idea of romance, or the way to woo a friend, but it was one of the only times they were alone together. They had to work out together this way, had to keep in sync if they were going to be effective teachers. More to the point, Rogue couldn't wiggle her way out of that, not as responsible as she was.

After the whole Piotr Questioning Incident she'd been ice cold about the fighting. They'd fought; she'd bloodied him; he'd bloodied her. There was no banter, no camaraderie. He'd started thinking it was the worst idea to let her beat the crap out of him when she kinda hated him and with kinda good reason.

Then, after his apology, something had shifted. She'd smiled when she'd taken him down. Taunted him when he missed a hit. The ice had thawed and he was pressing his advantage, teasing her, tugging her ponytail when he got the chance. Daring her so she'd spend extra time with him on the mats, proving how good she was now; though he already knew, in his bones, if they had to go toe-to-toe, he wouldn't have the upper hand based on fighting skill. All he'd have was her too soft heart.

Because she was damn good now.

She'd been okay when he'd first met her: Tough and sassy; good instincts. But now? Rogue had been practicing Muy Thai along with Savate, had learned to integrate fighting styles known to others she'd absorbed. Mixed Martial Arts, a clear head, and a brilliant mind: she was a force to be reckoned with and that was without adding in any mutations. He was kinda terrified of her. And in awe of her. Though he didn't let her know it.

Remy caught her in the ribs with a hard kick and Rogue groaned, faltering. "_Merde_. Rogue, you okay?" He stepped forward. She snagged his arm and flipped him over onto the mat. Knocked the breath clean out of him.

Then again, maybe her soft heart wasn't so such a liability after all

Gambit flipped the little trickster over him in the next moment, but managed it only because she was laughing too hard to defend herself. Pinned beneath him, face flushed, white tendrils sticking to her face, she kept right on laughing as he weighted her with his legs and his arms.

"Dat's funny?" Remy arched a brow. "I got you pinned now. You dead, _chere_."

"Worth it."

Remy laughed then too and leaned down to bump his forehead to hers. "Brat."

As if only just realizing how close they were, how their bodies pressed and their breath mingled, Rogue went still. Remy stopped laughing as her smile slipped. "Rogue," her name was a wash of his breath against her lips. Green eyes—_Le Bon Dieu_, they were so sharply green his own breath caught—lifted to his. "Anna Marie, I-"

"Move your asses. Professor wants us." Logan's voice growled from the doorway and Anna jerked, rolling away.

Remy banged his head once on the mat underneath him, then hauled himself up and chased after Anna and Logan. He got there right along with them and tried not to burn up with the pain when Rogue ranged herself between Logan and Piotr in the Professor's office.

Remy, he leaned quietly against a back wall, looking through his lashes at the way her arm just brushed Pete's and the big man looked down with a smile for her. He ignored, mostly, Storm seated on a couch and Cyclops standing behind the professor, his arms crossed over his chest. Kitty wouldn't quite let him get away with that. She bumped him so his gaze finally slid away from Rogue and Pete and over to Shadowcat and her constant companion, Snowmeow.

She lifted a brow and the smile on her mouth said she knew just what he'd been staring at.

_Fuck._

He was a worthless swamp rat, tryin' to break Rasputin's heart. Because, if he were honest, ain't no way he was okay settling with being just her friend. That ship had sailed and he was pure damn done kidding himself about it. He'd fix what he broke, make her know she was the best damn woman he'd ever met, but then he'd either have her heart or get the fuck out of there 'cause he couldn't watch her make green-eyed farmers while he played Uncle Remy.

* * *

**T**he Professor, a little less concerned with love triangles and heartbreak, let them in on why they were there: "We believe t he collar has been duplicated."

Remy's head snapped up. "Come again?"

The professor rested his elbows on the dark wood of his desk, pressed his fingertips into a tent. "Your contacts came through, Gambit. It appears that the auction is to include a mutant neutralizing collar."

Rogue shot a hand to her throat. "But, Professor, how?" Piotr's hand lifted to the small of her back as he and everyone else heard the strain in the Southern.

"There are a number of ways." The Professor shifted his gaze to her, her distress apparent to him and, no doubt, a few others, on multiples levels. "Others had been pursuing the research, particularly once it was leaked that Dr. MacTaggert had a successful prototype. It could be someone else found a viable solution to the question. "

"It was never all the way secure. Could just as easily be someone got enough of a look at her tech that they replicated it," Remy interjected.

Charles nodded agreement. "That as well. And how well this particular collar works is as yet unknown."

Grimly, Gambit said, "They'll demonstrate it, then, at the auction."

"Wait. Demonstrate it. How? And what auction?" Kitty chimed in, standing beside Remy but with none of his casual lean.

Gambit slid his eyes to Kitty. He forgot how innocent she still was. "The kind of auction that ain't legal, _'tite chatte,_ but that's my job t'know about. And they'll be demonstratin' it on a mutant and probably not a willing one."

Rogue made some small sound in the back of her throat, but Charles moved smoothly on when Remy would have homed in on that sound. "We expect so. Which brings me to why you've been called here. After some discussion, we've decided we'd like to send Rogue and Gambit to the auction as buyers."

There was a long silence, then: "Who's we exactly?" Gambit drawled.

Charles answered with a not unexpected list: "Logan, Jean, Beast, Moira, Scott, Storm, and myself."

Gambit wore a twist of a smile. "Ya'll didn't think t'include me on an op that I'll be workin' and includes my intelligence?"

"This was all discovered and discussed just moments ago, Gambit." In other words, yes, exactly what he'd said. "Do you have an objection?"

Red-on-black eyes locked with Xavier's. There was a storm in there, though his expression was affable. "Me? Naw, but I ain't de one you really springin' dis on. Rogue, you don' wanna go in wid me—"

But she whipped, ponytail snapping so hard it smacked Pete's chest with an audible thwack. One hand was held up, palm slapped to the air to stop him. "We're partners, right? 'Sides, we'd make the most sense. I got a vested interest in it and you…." _Once upon a time, you'd do anything for me._

"Am known t'have a weak spot for you," he supplied with no apparent unease when she stalled, "aside from dealin' in the less legal side of merchandise exchange. We sure do make de most sense."

Their eyes were locked for a half-a-beat too long to be comfortable for anyone else in the room before Anne Marie nodded, then twisted back around. "Right. So Remy and me, we make sense. What else?"

"Let's all have a seat and work out the details."

* * *

**T**he details turned out to be Scott and Piotr, Bobby and Kitty. No Logan, though the man protested his exclusion with a sentence and a series of inarticulate growls.

Of course, none of them could go in, but they could be on hand if things went south. Or if Remy and Rogue didn't manage to get the item in question and they needed an alternate method of acquiring it.

When they'd finally hashed it out and started back to their rooms to grab go-bags, Remy jogged after Rogue. He touched her elbow and murmured her name. She didn't stop but glanced back at him, then up at Pete, then back again. "What's up, Gambit?"

"I need t'ask you a few things before we go." Remy, he didn't look at Pete, he did slide in next to Anna and keep pace.

"We got a drive, don't we? Auction's in Chicago. We can talk then." Rogue met his gaze again, a moment, and then she split off. "Got some stuff in the laundry. See ya'll in an hour."

Which left Gambit with Colossus and giving her retreating backside a baleful look. Had laundry his fine Cajun ass.

Piotr, quiet most times, did as expected and said nothing further. Gambit decided to take his cue, just giving the bigger man a nod when they finally parted to go their separate rooms. Once they hit Chicago, they'd be wearin' ears and anything that got said Pete'd be listening in on. Remy figured he better have a real fine talk with Rogue on the road 'cause he didn't want the whole damn team listening in on what he wanted to talk about.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Happy Holidays! I hope it's been a wonderful time for you all. This chapter is a leeetle short, but I figured you'd rather have it than wait until I sorted out the next part.

Also, thank you all for all of your encouragement and kind words! It's so lovely to log on and see the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying and hope you keep doing so! We're definitely in the home stretch.

If you don't know the Snowmeow reference, it is from ThunderCats which is made of epic. Also, I feel like I should've titled this fic "The Curious Case of the Collar in the Night".


	55. Chapter 54: Too Late

**Chapter 54: **Too Late

**H**e gave her the first ten miles. After all, New York to Chicago wasn't a quick trip, particularly in the January snow. They were talkin' 13 hours if the roads kept clear. Still, just a few minutes in, Gambit slid a look to the right. Rogue was staring out the side window, watching bare trees rush by as there wasn't much else to see just yet. For a moment, he had a wild urge to reach over and tangle their fingers together; to ride in silence with her gloved hand tucked in his, the ghost of who they'd been sitting in the seats of the car with them.

"We got some things t'talk about, _chère_." His low voice didn't break the silence so much as shift it. For a moment, he wasn't sure she was going to answer.

Finally, there was a sigh and she too shifted, angling her body towards him and settling muddy green eyes with hints of amber at the iris on his profile. "I could pretend to be a complete fool and ask if you wanted t'talk about the plan and our cover, but I'm pretty sure that ain't it."

A slow smile eased across his wide mouth and he slanted Rogue an appreciative and amused glance. "_Mais non, petite_. Now me, I got lots of things I think we need t'talk about, but we can just start with what happened in that meetin' back there." Remy could all but feel her body tense. It was a subtle thing but her muscles quivered like he'd done attacked her.

"What are you talkin' 'bout, Gambit?"

He wished he could feel anything from her but the wall she'd put between them. Wondered if she felt the same since she'd imprinted his empathy. "When Charles mentioned the collar. "

Now Rogue's mouth went wry. "You mean when he mentioned the collar was stolen? The collar we been tryin' to protect for the last couple years?"

Remy shot a swift and pointed look, his own mouth curling at her failed evasion. "Why'd you grab your throat?"

"This? _This_ is your big talk?" Rogue snorted and slouched in her seat, turned her face forward. "Wake me up when you wanna trade." She shut her eyes, dismissing Remy and the conversation he'd prompted.

Steering with his left hand, Remy reached the right over and stroked a bare fingertip down her throat. He felt her pulse jump, felt some emotion arc between them before she slammed that wall up again. Despite that initial reaction, Rogue opened her eyes and turned her head with deliberate slowness.

Remy, splitting his attention between her and the road, flicked his gaze from one to the other, but left his fingertips just brushing her skin. "Did it hurt?"

Rogue moved herself up in the seat, forcing his hand to fall away. "Why's it matter?"

"Anna Marie, it matters to you. Maybe matters to some stranger we don't even know that they gonna put it on and maybe matters to both of us when they do." But mostly it mattered because he knew, he just knew, she hadn't told anyone about it. Moira would have forced her to answer a certain number of questions, but Rogue was cagey and what she didn't want to talk about she'd have kept squirreled away.

One mile, three, five, another ten rolled by in a pensive silence. She was trapped after all, he didn't need to push too hard just yet.

Eventually, Anna Marie lifted a hand in the air, palm up, then let it fall. "Look, it had t'be done. I was…I wasn't me for a while. I was anyone but me really. And some of, some of the people I've taken they ain't so nice and some of them," her mouth twitched lightly, almost a smile, almost affection, and Remy caught it on the end of a quick glance at her, "well, some of them ain't real civilized."

Tucking one leg under her, Rogue shifted again, slender fingers tugging at her sleeves and pulling them over her knuckles. "It was scary for them—Moira, and the team," she clarified. "And then there were the physical mutations." Unconsciously she ran a hand over her knuckles. "Bone claws, turnin' into water vapor. I was awful hard to treat so they decided t'use the collar. And it worked."

Anna looked to him now and when she spoke her voice was steady, soft and serious. "It worked, Remy. I stopped shifting forms, stopped having bone claws breaking my skin, stopped threatenin' everyone with lazer eyes or electric storms. But it didn't help what happened in m'head." Green eyes fell to her hands again. "And, yeah, okay, it hurt. Moira hadn't had much time t'test the prototype."

"I thought she'd tested it."

"Sure. On volunteers. Mostly folks who had control and no one, no one as out of control as I was. No one with such powerful mutations."

Remy felt the muscle in his jaw jump and made a point to relax it. "And dere you were with all those things, so she tested it on you."

"No," Rogue's voice snapped across the interior of the car. "She used it as a last, desperate resort." Rogue twisted again in the seat, shoved fingers through her tumble of hair.

"It was torture for you either way, with or without the collar." Even Remy could hear the raw note in a voice he was trying to keep neutral.

"It was better with it. Cycling through those mutations was killin' me. Was threatinin' to kill other people. What were the options, Gambit? Between you and Logan, wasn't no plain ol' sedative keepin' me out. So, it was the collar or put me down like a dog."

His hands knotted on the wheel and he knew his eyes were glowing. "Is that what they said? Is that how they talked about you?"

"No, Gawd. That's how _I_ talked about it. And that's just another reason I didn't want you around! I didn't want you makin' that kind of decision!"

Fuck. God. This conversation had spun sideways. "Seems to me that's exactly why you needed me there! Who the hell was makin' those decisions, Anna Marie? Who decided just how much pain was better than you bein' dead?"

"That don't matter! It's done and I'm here and I'm fine."

"How much pain, Anna?" His voice was grim.

"Enough! No more'n I put you through everytime I drained you! No more'n when Magneto used me like a battery pack! Why? Why're we even…This ain't even the point."

After taking a breath, Rogue reached out, fingertips touching Remy's thigh. His head jerked in her direction, their eyes meeting briefly before he looked back to the road.

"It's what I had t'do, what they had t'do. I don't regret a minute of it. If you think about it, I'm a walkin' weapon of mass destruction. If I didn't have control, Remy, I could kill thousands. And I'm not even talkin' about meanin' too, just losin' control, I could do that much damage." Her voice was, again, quiet. Her fingers still on his thigh.

"But that was a risk I chose long before that night and that was _Moira's_ collar. She'd been workin' on it for years and years, Remy. She'd tested that prototype. But whatever's going to be there? At the auction?" Rogue shook her head, drew her hand away from him. "Even if they copied her plans at some point, I doubt it's with her newest data, or hell, even the data before she had to use it on me. Who knows how it works or what the long-term effects might be. And what if the government gets a hold of somethin' like that? What if the Mutant Registration Act passes and they start puttin' that on anyone they think is a little too powerful or smug or nonconformist or-"

Remy's hand caught Rogue's, his fingers sliding familiarly against hers, locking them together. "We're gonna do what we can to stop this, right now, Anna Marie. " He squeezed her hand before continuing. "When we get t'Chicago you need t'give everyone a head's up that if they do demonstrate it, it probably ain't gonna be real pretty. We don't want noone reactin' 'cause they're surprised." Her hand jumped in his. "It's personal. I'm guessin' you ain't told no one who wasn't there about all this, yeah?"

"No. No." She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand without even realizing it. "Then you oughta know it, it burned m'skin. Bad enough that if I hadn't had yours or Logan's ability to heal, I'd have some nasty scars. Even with that, if they'd left it on too long I don't think they'd've healed up."

He could taste bile at the back of his throat, the acidic burn just there as he imagined her slender throat red and raw. But his voice was even when he offered, "I can tell 'em, if you want, keep it clean and simple." Another flickering glance and he found her, this time, looking at him thoughtfully.

"That's why I couldn't have you there." His hand jerked, attempting to pull away but she locked both of her hands around his. "No, damn it. You started this conversation, so you'll listen. That? What you just did there? Protectin' me? Takin' the burden? I love you for that, but that's just exactly why I couldn't have even the promise of you out there. I was too afraid I'd rely on you to do what you just offered: to take some of the burden, to call me back. And then what if you weren't there one day? Away at the grocery store or on a separate mission? What if you were hurt and needed me? Or what if it someday it just got to be too much?"

"It wouldn't ever have—"

"You cain't know that, Remy." She gripped his hand hard, gave it a shake like she wished she could shake him. "You can say you wouldn't leave, you'd be there, but you sure cain't say you'd never have wanted to leave, never have got to feelin' like I was a burden, a responsibility. I needed, for both of us, to be able to control it on my own, for myself."

When he didn't immediately respond she let his hand go and laughed, swiped at her face as if there were tears there. Remy didn't see them, watching the road, but knew it was a rare thing for her to do in the first place.

"Nevermind. Shouldn't have—you made it real clear how you feel about me."

"Anna—"

"No, please, please can we just be silent for a little while. "

* * *

**R**emy did as she asked, depressing the accelerator a little more and leaving the hum of the engine to fill the quiet. He had a lot to think about his own self. How afraid she must have been. And he understood, damn it; to his core, he understood the need to stand on your own, to know you could. But he also couldn't stop imagining her with burnt skin and a weak pulse, eyes wild and fear like a live thing in the throat; caged in a room for months.

It was an hour and not quite 70 miles later when he finally asked, "Was it just for you? Did you push me away just so you could…do what you needed to do?"

She could lie, they both knew that, but they owed the truth to each other. "No," so softly. Uncertain whether he'd heard her or not, Rogue cleared her throat, tried again. "No. I wanted you to…to get some distance in case I couldn't…in case it turned out I didn't come back from that. I wanted you to be…"

"Angry? Terrified? Hollowed the fuck out?" His words should have been all sharp edged, propelled like shrapnel, but instead they were a little sad, a little rough.

"No. Maybe. Better that than what would happen if we didn't break things off and I ended up locked up at Muir Island for the rest of my life, only bein' Anna Marie one day out of every hundred."

"You think I'd've cared if that's all I got?"

"No! No and that's my point exactly! I don't want your damn sacrifice you obstinate Cajun! You were always the only person who just saw me, just liked me, just…were normal with me! I didn't want that t'change. I couldn't bear for that to change." Her hand smacked against the dashboard. "Why is this so damn hard for you to get?

"I wanted better for you but I sure as hell wasn't going to settle for that for you and me. You and me were partners, damn it. And when you kissed me, you weren't ever afraid of me or for me. If you'd seen me at Muir Island, my hair standin' on end, my eyes changin' colors all the time, and my hands bloody from the claws that kept goin' in and out, you think you wouldn't have started to see me differently? See me as fragile?" She made a disgusted sound, shaking her head as she sat back. "Like hell you wouldn't have, Remy, like hell."

"I deserved the chance, Anna!" The words shot out of him, not at all what he'd intended as she'd talked. "I deserved the fuckin' chance to tell you how I felt, to hold your hand—"

"No one could touch me! No one could be in the same damn room as me!"

"Maybe I could've been! Maybe you wouldn't have needed to torture yourself with the damn collar! Maybe—"

"Maybe the Great Remy LeBeau can just fix everything!"

He laughed, the sound rich and husky. "Naw, chere, don't you put that on me. I never thought that and you knew, better'n anyone, what I thought of me."

"Why are we doin' this, Remy? Why? You're over it, over me. You told me." She could still hear him, feel the sharp stake of his words while she lay naked in bed, loose and warm from loving him. "You made it real clear, Cajun, so why do we have to do this now?"

"I didn't make anything clear, Anna Marie. I muddied it up 'cause you seemed so…Fuck, you want me to tell you you made the right choice?" His hand flicked, gesturing as if to indicate her whole being. "Obviously you did, _catin._ Look'it you. You're strong and gorgeous and you got control of not just your mutation but all de ones you been gatherin' up. So, yeah, you made the right choice for you. You come back all golden and happy and wearin' short sleeves. People, people can touch you. People that ain't me. You made the exact right choice for you."

"But not for you?"

"You don't know what it was like for me…what I…It don't matter."

"Of course it matters. _Bon Dieu!_ I came looking for you and you looked happy!"

"At Xavier's? I don't think so, Mississippi."

"Before that! When you were with her!"

"What?"

When he looked over she looked stricken, her formerly flushed cheeks paling. "It don't matter."

"Like hell it don't." He swerved suddenly, peeled them over lanes of traffic, onto the shoulder and slammed them to a stop. He flipped on the hazard lights and flicked off his seat belt. "What the hell do you mean you came looking for me? With her who?"

"Yaxeni." He still looked confused and Rogue couldn't help but laugh though she brought both hands up to scrub at her face. "As soon as they released me I went lookin' for you and I found you. With her. And you looked so happy, so easy. You could touch her and make love to her and laugh with her. I tried to go ahead and come up to ya'll's place, figured I should just let you know I was okay, figured I'd regret it forever if I didn't see you and just let you know you were the first person I wanted….but I couldn't ruin it. I'd sent you away so you could have just that and you had it and I kinda hated you for movin' on like I'd wanted you to, but…." she laughed a little, again, finding a sort of twisted humor in this mess of a conversation, "I didn't want to mess it up, put anymore shadows in there. So, I left."

"You were there? At Yaxeni's?" When she nodded slowly, Remy felt his heart lurch, felt his stomach twist with guilt and with the months lost between then and now. "What did you see, Rogue?"

"Enough. I didn't spy, not really," her cheeks flushed hotly and her eyes, whirling with different colors now, bounced from his face to her lap to whatever was outside the windshield.

"How'd you know I was happy?"

"I could feel it. It reached out and wrapped right around me."

"You sure that was me?"

"I'd know you anywhere, sugar."

"It wasn't because of Yaxeni. Not really."

"Remy, I don't want to—"

But he cut her off. He didn't give a damn what she wanted—or didn't want—just then. "She knew about something I wanted. If I was that happy, it must have been because she'd finally told me what I needed to know."

Here Anna snorted. "I'm pretty sure your happiness had a lot to do with all the things ya'll did naked and not so much to do with anything she had to tell you."

But Remy didn't find it amusing or distracting. He gripped her shoulders with his hands, stared hard into those newly mercurial eyes. "I wasn't in love with her, Anna, not ever. I liked fucking her." Anna flinched, but he kept going. "I never would have touched her if you'd still been in my life. I was looking for something important for someone I love. She knew the people that were closest to getting their hands on it. So I went to her. I seduced her. And she finally told me what I needed to know. "

Heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears, Rogue felt dizzy. She didn't want to ask what he was looking for or for who. She thought she knew the who anyway. "I didn't know…"

"And you didn't ask. You shut me out again. Made a choice for the both of us. Things might've been real different if you'd come knocking on that door, Anna Marie."

"I thought…."

"You're always makin' choices for everyone else, protectin' 'em from you. You ain't a bomb about to go off in people's lives, _catin._ And even if you were, it's our choice, the people who wanna be in your life, to take that risk." Finally, he pulled his hands from her, turned in his seat. "All you ever had t'do, Anna, was ask."

Not waiting for her response, not really expecting one, he put on the blinker and pulled back into traffic.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, thank you for your patience, encouragement, and kindness. 3


	56. Chapter 55: Caveat Emptor

**Chapter 55: **Caveat Emptor

**T**hey shared a room when they stopped for the night, a choice made by the team and one Remy was sure Rogue would have liked to change.

There were two beds but little space between them to navigate the room. They moved carefully, not brushing, not talking. They each showered, one after the other, and then settled in for the night. Only when the lights were off, the room only illuminated by security lights shining between the crack of the curtains, did Rogue find her voice. "I miss you. Looks like that's more my fault than I realized. I had to be on my own at Muir Island, but I should have come to you sooner, told you…there's a lot I should've said that I didn't. For that, I'm sorry."

Remy didn't answer and eventually they both slept.

Rogue drove the next morning, Remy leaned back and dozing in his seat while she finger-tapped to the local bluegrass station they'd picked up on their way out of the hotel. They had about seven hours until they reached Chicago and, for now, they'd agreed not to delve back into old wounds—or newly created ones.

It worked for her, anyway, him slipping in and out of sleep, the creep of sunlight turning into a bright day as they'd gotten a ridiculously early start. Even the twang of banjos and a nasal drawl on the lyrics had her bouncing. Anna had expected, after the previous day, to feel heavy and sick, to be barely able to look Remy in the eye, but for the first time in a long time, she felt….lighter. She hadn't told him everything, not by a long shot, not everything she felt he had a right to know and once would have known he'd want to hear, but she wasn't entirely sure where their boundaries were anymore. And, somehow, the fight had felt….freeing. Right. So she sang under her breath when "The Lucky One" came on.

At lunch they lamented the lack of sweet tea this far north and sneered at the offering of grits on the menu. They grinned over the table at one another, the action surprisingly easy over laminate with the smell of grease thick in the air. The two took 30 through Indiana, through long fallow stretches of farmland, through residential areas and the occasional stoplight., through places named Pierceton and Warsaw. They sang along to the radio while casting curious looks back and forth. There was more to be said, Rogue was sure, but she was just as sure neither one of them were ready to crack Pandora's box back open and see what they hadn't yet let out.

When they crossed from Indiana into Illinois, Remy rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck. "Sure you don' wan' me to drive none, _chère_?"

"You worried, Swamp Rat?"

His grin flashed bright as stage lights. "Naw, just bein' chivalrous. City traffic can be a bear."

"I got this, sugar." Besides, they'd timed it to miss morning and evening traffic. Though they were snagging on the lunch rush once they arrived downtown, heading toward their suite at the Embassy Suites.

Inside, Rogue whistled her appreciation. "Nice. Lakeview."

Remy shrugged. He didn't think it was nice, particularly. Nicer than the independently owned shack they'd stayed in the night before but this hotel was more for business, he thought, than pleasure. But, then, they were here for business and not pleasure. And now that they were here, a knock sounded on the wall just before Kitty, Bobby, and Piotr phased through it.

Pete eased toward Rogue. He was a big man and even if he wasn't rushing her, it was impossible not to notice that he moved with intention. When he reached her, just inside the door to the bedroom she and Remy would share, the Russian's hand slid to her waist and she lifted into him. Remy turned away before he witnessed more. "You got our ears, Kit?"

She looked at him, too knowing, for a beat before answering. "Sure do." She offered him a slender card, the queen of hearts. Remy lifted a brow as he took it in his hand. "If they know you, they know you keep cards on you. This shouldn't arouse suspicion. Just don't blow it up. Pass a finger over the heart and hold it to turn it on or off. "

"An' how'm I s'posed to hear you?"

"You won't. Rogue will. So don't get separated." From a small jeweler's bag kitty produced earrings. "Although, if you do get separated, you tap that heart twice, you get a two way signal." She pinned him with a serious look that made him flash back to school days sweatin' on the bayou and Ms. Rosalie Jenks from up Carolina way. "Try not to use it." He gave her a low chuckle, still picturing the pert Ms. Jenks.

Rogue, Piotr in tow, stepped forward with a knowing side-eye for the Cajun before focusing on the baubles in Kitty's upturned palm. "Mine?"

There was a brief run through on how to use them and then the trio was heading for a, well, a wall. "We'll be next door if you need us." Kit phased the boys back through, then popped back in to where Rogue and Remy were still standing. "By the way, no ears in hear unless you activate yours. Night."

Ignoring the strangeness of that, Rogue placed her earrings back in their bag. She took extra care with them and only spoke once the bag was delicately cinched again. "So, we've got nearly two days before the auction. What do we do?"

Remy had already slid his Queen into a pocket. "We wait."

Waiting was excruciating. He said it so casually, like it was no big deal that they were stranded together for the next 48 hours while Cyclops and the rest of them checked out the auction location. They'd be busy while she and Remy were supposed to, what, Netflix and chill? No euphemism intended? Or play cards. He seemed comfortable playing solitaire on his own while she couldn't stop pacing.

In fact, as Rogue paced the floor for the 56th time, Remy flipped another card over on his sixth game of solitaire and scanned his options before placing it. "Wanna go to de gym?"

Rogue's forward momentum stopped on a dime. "Can we leave the room? Is that alright?"

"Sure, _chère_," Remy glanced up where she stood poised on her toe tips like she just might take flight. "Just makes it easier if we stay close to de room, yeah."

Rogue dropped to her heels. "But it ain't exactly your usual mode. Won't that seem suspicious?"

Remy looked up again, found Rogue with fisted hands on hips, hair standing out wild from her impatient fingertips. "There's still tomorrow, Anna Marie. And, if I'm here 'cause you're here, wouldn't be real surprisin' that we spent the first 24 hours in the room. Gonna need to order some champagne to sell it but…" He gave a Gallic shrug.

"So anyone watching us will think we've spent this entire time…together."

"Having sex. Fucking. Making love. Not only are you old enough to say it, Rogue, but me and you done it, so it ain't such a stretch."

Her cheeks went hot and she twisted on the balls of her feet, resuming pacing again.

"Great. So, that's why you're helpin' me?"

She couldn't see his eyes narrow dangerously.

"I mean, why they'll all think you're helpin' me."

"_Ce n'est pas ma faute_. But, yeah." The snap of a card cracked the air. "Dat's right."

Rogue made a small sound that was disbelieving, to say the list. "Then who else's, Romeo?" Shaking it off, she pushed fingers back into the tangle of her curls. "And that would be enough to get you to….help someone?" How many times had she said that word now?

"No."

"So why would anyone believe this then?"

"That wouldn't be enough for me t'help jus' anyone, Anna Marie, but word on de street is," here Remy paused, considering his words, "I went weak for you. You, you got me by the short and curlies, so I'd sure enough do anything, yeah?"

Again, her cheeks went hot and something spread from her chest, over her shoulders. "Oh. How would anyone…why would anyone…"

"Lydia. Magneto. Mist. Burner. Take your pick." Not to mention everyone who knew what he'd been hunting in South America. He tucked the four of clubs onto the five of diamonds.

"What's that mean for…for..,at the auction?"

Broad shoulders rolled. "Not much, Rogue. Don't jerk away if I touch you. Go wid de flow."

Anna licked her lips. "Remy, I-" When he looked up, she was caught on that firefly eyes, the hin glow in them. Her chest burned. "I think I'm gonna take a nap."

* * *

**D**ay two was similarly uncomfortable until they got to the part where they were actually dressing for the damned auction. She wore midnight blue and felt a lot like Anastasia. 'Cept, she was no returnin' Russian princess and Remy was no cartoon con man with a heart of gold, secretly pining for her to return his love.

Shaking it off, she left the little bathroom and twisted on her earrings. "Alright, Gambit, let's go."

But for a moment he just stared, his fire and coal eyes taking her in. For a moment, she forgot what came next.

"You look beautiful, Anna Marie."

"Well, that's, um, the dress, the point of the dress, so that I blend in." She was babbling. She could hear it. So could everyone else, she remembered clearly and suddenly. "Not. So do you. I mean, that's not the point but you also look…beautiful." And yet she couldn't stop. Glaring now, she grumbled through clenched teeth. "Can we go?"

"After you." He was glad there weren't eyes too 'cause then they'd've been treated to his wolfish smile when she preceded him out the door.

And he was wearing it, for different reasons, when the cab dropped them off at an empty lot. It sat next to the long abandoned Maywood Home for Soldiers' Widows. Outwardly, it looked abandoned still and unimpressive sitting catty corner to a Citgo and across the street from a Burger King. Inside, however, told a different story.

Inside, old-wood gleamed, and glass doors sparkled. Inside, chandeliers from the twenties reprinted the Anastasia daydream on the back of Rogue's eyes. And from the inside, she could no longer see the Citgo or the Burger King. Someone, a mutant in the house, was doing an interesting trick of making it look as if this abandoned home sat on the lake while a sternwheeler paddled by.

Leaning in, amused by his date's wide-eyes, Remy murmured, "Don't look so impressed, _chère."_

"Sorry, Cajun, but I am."

"Let's just be thankful it ain't castely then, _non_?"

* * *

**T**here was mingling. Champagne. Canapés. Enemies of long-standing and strange faces representing anonymous interests eyed one another warily. Remy, well, he had a way of moving among them as if he were on friendly terms with all sides. And when anyone was curious as to who he was representing, they simply had to take one look at the long, bare expanse of his date's back before smirking and tipping their glass to him. What could he do, after all, when a gorgeous woman had a whim?

Remy kept his Anna Marie close, a hand possessive but light on her lower back. He included her in the conversation and often took an opportunity to murmur into her ear. He leaned just then, encouraging: "Workin' beautifully."

Rogue sipped her champagne, a smile curving her lips as she tilted into the affection. "It ain't so hard t'pretend to be goggle-eyed arm candy after all." But when he laughed, she tensed. "Is that…John?"

Remy didn't move in a hurry, but he eased them round 'til he could see where Rogue'd been looking. Sure enough, there was Fire Bug in a nicely tailored suit. "Sure is. What say we go say hello?"

"What? I don't—"

But he was nudging her along and, unless she wanted to make a scene, Rogue was going to have to follow.

"Pyro."

To his credit, John showed no surprise when Remy greeted him or when he turned enough to find the Cajun standing with Rogue. He did slide a look over Anna Marie that set Remy's teeth on edge, though. "Rogue. Gambit. What are you two doing here?"

Remy smiled that lazy coonass grin, kept his hand curved against Anna. "Decided t'travel the lower 48 by RV and just stumbled into this little shindig. Figured these ol' rags would do."

Pyro ignored him, except for the telling twist to his thin mouth. "This doesn't seem like something the professor would be into. Illegal auctions and all."

As his eyes were on her, Rogue answered him. "I'm not here for Professor Xavier, John. I'm here for me."

"You know my true name. Use it." There was that edge again, sharp and bitter. She'd thought, once, it would yield eventually to the persistent confidence and shelter she'd found at Xavier's.

"I'm sorry I—"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "It's starting."

All that intense mingling ceased as people took their seats and made certain they had their numbered paddles ready. Up above, on a walkway, the auctioneer took his place. The room wasn't crowded, no more than 25 people gathered in the wide room, seats taken. Still Rogue felt claustrophobic and twined her fingers with Remy's as the first item came out on the neck of a slim woman with dark skin and close cropped hair. She was stunning. Still, almost no one in the room was looking at her. They were eyeing the Egyptian style necklace she wore. The auctioneer mentioned it's history, its purported power, but all Rogue heard was the thunder of her own heart in her ears.

The bidding happened quietly, with no fuss, and eventually nods were exchanged and someone took home something that was either very rare and dangerous or just a pretty trinket.

Remy distracted her by sliding his thumb along the tendons of her wrist over and over until she was breathing with the stroke and her hand relaxed in his. She almost enjoyed the bidding on a dark box purported to have belonged to Napoleon who was purported to have been a mutant.

Rogue, skeptically amused and more at ease, smiled at Remy just as the collar went up on the block; it was wrapped around the neck of a young man with broad wings. He stood on the balcony above them, showcasing his physique, before slowly descending the stairs as the auctioneer explained just what the circlet was made of

The young man wore a small pair of black shorts, so everyone could see the ripple of muscle as his wings flexed then folded along his back before he made his way down the midline aisle. So they could see the swish of spade-tipped tail.

She wanted to leap up and claw the thing off of him. It looked delicate, silver around his neck. Too modern, compared to the other pieces. Too steel. Too shiny. Like death. But Remy kept his fingers threaded through hers and watched, with a gaze that seemed dispassionate, as the man paraded up and down for them to gawk at. When he leaned towards Rogue, as if to better see the item, he whispered, "We'd all be in danger," as if he knew that despite the link of his hand to her gloved one she was going to run down that aisle, screaming a warning, and try to savage the collar from the stranger's neck before it savaged him.

The bidding was begun without a demonstration. Rogue sat back in her chair, her spine curled with relief. Just as Remy contemplated bidding, cautiously optimistic that despite the claims made by the auctioneer, the price had remained low, the auctioneer raised a hand and stopped taking bids.

"I believe what we need is a demonstration of this piece's efficacy." He nodded at someone in the back of the room. A blue light came on the collar, a clear ring bisecting the metal, and then the man wearing it began to scream.

His mutations seemed to regress into his body, his bones breaking down and folding into themselves. They didn't make it, not fully, but were left as rippling and strange-shaped humps on his back. He screamed and writhed and clawed at the collar. Until he passed out from the pain. He was still unconscious when they blue light shut off and his bones broke themselves into being again.

Bidding increased rapidly.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Caveat Emptor—**"A Latin term meaning "let the buyer beware." A legal maxim stating that the buyer takes the risk regarding quality or condition of the property purchased, unless protected by warranty." from auctioneer . org (sans spaces) (I learned this today.)

**_Ce n'est pas ma faute_. —**It's not my fault. What a Remyish line.

Also, I know! I do the thing where I don't post and then I post a few back to back. It's just..I don't know if I'm ready and then I'm like, yeah, I think we'll stick with this direction. So here's post two and a cliff hanger. And I don't quite have all the next chapter worked out. But I have lots and lots of love for you all. :) That helps, right? RIGHT?!


	57. Chapter 56: In a Little Canoe

**Chapter 56: **In a Little Canoe

**T**hey didn't win the collar. They sat through the bidding that came after with Remy's hand clenched hard around Anna's. After, the moment the last item had closed, they stood together, intending to make a quick exit, but there was John, his eyes dark and unreadable as they latched onto Anna Marie. "I heard you had that thing on."

"Not that one," Rogue shook her head, her voice kept low. When she looked beyond John, to the crowd of strangers, she thought of them as they had been during the demonstration. People had smiled as the winged-man screamed and the smell of his flesh singed the air. Oh, God. Those weren't really people at all. They were monsters.

"How could you let anyone do that to you, Rogue? _That_?" His voice was a hiss, his hand shooting out to curl around her arm.

"Dat's enough, John Boy," Remy warned, edging just slightly forward, a glow brightening his blackjack eyes.

"Not nearly," John answered, gaze flicking between his two former friends. "But I don't have time for this and neither do you." Focusing on Rogue, he continued. "I suggest you and the rest of your team get out of the village, get of Chicago. Soon."

This time, Rogue fisted a satin-gloved hand in his jacket, yanked him forward as Remy stepped into her, blocking as much of the scene from the view of others. "What the hell do you mean, John?"

Pyro didn't pull away and his face, for once, didn't look twisted into bitterness. "We were friends once, Rogue. Trust me. You don't want to be here by morning."

As Remy went to add his weight to Rogue's , Scott's voice cut through to her and her gaze slid sharp to the Cajun. "We have to go. John," he pulled out of her grasp, smoothing his jacket, while Remy's hands, gentle on her, urged her away. "Pyro," she corrected at the return of sharpness to his gaze, "whatever you're about to do, you don't have to. You still have a choice."

"Like you said, Rogue: I made my choice." He took a step back and she finally had to look away as Remy maneuvered them out of the crowd.

Remy curled around her as they stepped from the crowd to the porch."Come the morning, the temporary truce between all these players is off. We had to get out regardless of his warning, Rogue."

"But shouldn't we," she lowered her voice as they slid into the cab Scott had waiting for them, "shouldn't we try to find out what he's doing?"

Remy was quiet and in the dark cab. Illuminated only by streetlights, his eyes fell to the slender curve of her neck. Lifting a hand, he touched his fingertips to the warm skin there and knew she felt the tremble he'd been trying to control. "Honestly, Anna, I don't think I'd be of any use jus' now even if we knew where t'start." Anna curled her fingers gently around Remy's, pulling his hand from her neck. Saying nothing more, they rode, hands linked, in silence.

Once back in the hotel, everything was rush. Rogue hurried to change while people were phased between rooms. "I don't understand why we cain't jus' stay figure out what Magneto is up to!"

Piotr un-tucked the tail of her hair from her shirt, held her carefully when she whipped around to face him. "Everyone has seen everyone else's face. Those that stay aren't doing it for anything good. Some could follow you." She huffed and Piotr's mouth curved slightly. "Magneto will know you and Remy did not come alone, but it is important that others do not reach the conclusion that you were here at Charles's behest. For Gambit to work undercover, no one else must know you had X-Men assisting you. We separate. We go." He bent, kissed her mutinous mouth. She returned his kiss, but was still scowling when he pulled back.

"He could hurt people," insisted, turning and scooping up her dress. She shoved the long sheath of slinky and shimmering blue in a bag with no regard to its label, narrowly missing catching the fabric in the zipper.

"No doubt, Anna Marie, he will." He shrugged at her sideways glance. "We cannot always stop him. We found out what we needed to from this night."

Her entire body whipped, expression incredulous. "We didn't get the collar. We didn't get nothin'."

"We learned there are more." Piotr touched her cheek gently. "Many, many more."

* * *

**A**nna Marie and Remy dropped their bags in the backseat and set off again, this time heading south. They couldn't go straight back to New York, though the others were no doubt halfway home since they were getting a Blackbird pickup.

Seatbelt on, knees tucked to her chest, Rogue watched the light spark off of grubby snow as they edged out of the city.

Remy broke the silence, certain of what was still troubling the other southerner. "We don't know that Magneto will do anything."

"Of course we do." Rogue put her forehead on the glass of the passenger side window and closed her eyes. Of course he would. She was just afraid that a part of her was actually glad he was doing something, something she couldn't, something _they_ couldn't.

She woke to a salmon pink skyline and the heady smell of hot chocolate and donuts. Twisting in the seat, Rogue blinked blearily at Remy. "Whe'weat?"

"Because I know you so well, _catin_, I know you wanna know where we are. South of Chicago. And I know you wanna take this cup," Remy waggled it gently from side-to-side, smiling despite the scowl of sleep-swollen green eyes, "and eat the breadcrumbs I got here for you, pop chock."

When he waved the bag in front of her she snapped her teeth. Remy laughed and waited until she'd shoved back some of the wild hair, fingertips just barely peeping out of the too long sweater sleeves, to relinquish his offerings. Anna didn't have on gloves and so their skin brushed as she took her cup and the glazed chocolate cake donut. Only after she'd finished did he say, "Figured we'd just keep headin' south til it gets a little warmer. Maybe the Gulf Coast of Texas? Do a little swimmin'? Eat some shrimp n' grits."

Balefully, Rogue continued to look at him. "How 'bout where we stretchin' out to sleep today?"

"Don't you worry you're pretty little head, _petite_. "

She gave him a dark look, all scowl and snapping green eyes. "I'm not above knockin' your smug self unconscious and dragging you into the trunk while I drive to a posh hotel and sleep for 12 hours, Cajun."

To Remy, that threat was pure damn music to his ears. He grinned, unabashed. "Go back to bed, Grumpy Cat. You'll wake up somewhere nice. I swear." He crossed his heart. She growled. It felt not unlike coming home.

She did sleep, barely even stirring when Remy stopped for gas. But when he finally pulled into their spot, a cabin on Reelfoot Lake in Tennessee, he found her staring at the little cypress shack. "I know it don't look like much," he began.

She had that swamp bracken back in her gaze, but her sleep husky voice moved right inside of him. "It looks like everything."

Inside there was a sleeping loft over an open living room, a kitchen and a small bathroom. But it was out the back window, out the backdoor onto the lake that really was everything. Anna Marie went right for it and just seemed to breath it in.

"This is nice, Remy."

Choosing not to respond to her compliment, Remy said instead, "No one followed us. Got a call while you were out. We don't seem interestin' but they figured we oughta keep up the idea that, uh,…"

She glanced over her shoulder. "You're followin' your dick around?"

Remy shook his head, expression amused and rueful at once. "You do have a way wid words, _catin_."

Anna's expression was essentially sardonic. The kind of expression one would use as an example. "We stoppin' here for a few days, then?"

"Or we could go on to Galveston, to sunshine and shrimp." He was casual about it, all the while hoping she wanted to stay.

His Anna, he thought, didn't disappoint. "Nah, I like it right here."

So he arranged it that they'd stay right there.

* * *

**R**emy gave her the sleeping loft and took the couch for himself. That night, they split a frozen pizza and built a fire. They didn't talk, not really, but the quiet was good, not uncomfortable. The kind of quiet you didn't mind. And when she murmured good night and it floated down to him like a feather lost from a wing, he held it close for luck.

"We're gonna need some supplies." Rogue was staring in the bare fridge when she made the announcement. "How long had that pizza been in the freezer?" Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes met Remy's as he gave a sleepy, lazy stretch that rode his tank up over the ridges of his belly. She looked back into the desolate cavern of the fridge. "Who's place is this anyway?"

The silence made her shoulders itch. Shutting the door carefully, Rogue turned with eyes now bright as a blade of grass. "Remy. You do know who owns this place? You didn't just pick it at random while I slept." She wouldn't make it a question. He wouldn't have.

He grinned sheepishly.

He did! "Oh my Gawd. We gotta go. Like, now. They could be back at any time."

He caught her, one armed, as she tried to dart past, presumably to grab her things. "Hey, Anna, gimme some credit. It's de middle o' winter. Ain't no one comin' out to de lake in early January." She punched his arm and he knew that was gonna bruise, but, damn, her face was worth it. He couldn't help but laugh and try to fend her off one handed, the other rubbing his poor abused body. "Anna, Anna. 'Course I know who owns dis place. He don' mind we here, him. Don't get used enough."

"He's a friend? Someone that likes and trusts you?" She didn't sound like she believed him.

"Ah, now," Remy backpedaled as that green and rainbow gaze went lethal. She could kill with a look, if she chose. "I don't know dat he likes me so much."

Hot color washed her cheeks and he thought maybe there was a little lightning in the air as she demanded, "Remy, who the hell owns this place?"

"I do." She stopped, looked around as if she expected someone to pop out and yell gotcha! "Honest, _petite_, dis is my place."

"I didn't know you…I never knew…"

"Bought it after."

"Oh."

There were three heartbeats with the two of them looking at each other, years and other unnamed things spanning like a desert between them. "It's beautiful, Remy." Another pause, this time her eyes drifting toward the couch, then up to the loft. "I shouldn't have taken your bed."

"Anna, it's yours."

"But it really is yours."

"Oh, for fuck sake." Giving into the impulse to touch her, Remy grabbed both of her hands with his. "It's yours." He gave the hands he gripped an emphasizing shake. "Don't argue, _ange_. I really don't get out here much." He held her gaze for another moment, then released her and shifted the topic. "You wanna help me find a grocery store? Nearest neighbors a couple miles off. I got the land on either side to keep it private, so ain't really no one to borrow a cup of sugar from."

"Or anything to do with the sugar but lick it if we did borrow it."

Remy grinned. "True dat. Let's stock up."

It was nice, Rogue considered, grocery shopping with Remy, for just the two of them. Surprisingly easy. And, after, putting the groceries away, she only had one painfully hard moment when she thought this is what they could've had if she'd gone to him at Yaxeni's, if he hadn't walked out of her room that night at Xavier's.

"I should call Pete. Let him know we're…okay."

"Sure, _chere_. Dere's a landline over by de couch." Remy watched her walk away and pick up the phone, back turned towards him as she dialed. As the cabin wasn't large, there was nowhere for him to go except outside to afford her privacy and outside it was damn cold. For awhile, he continued straightening things in the kitchen. When she laughed, he smiled automatically, familiar heat pricking under his skin. Anna's laugh, while he forgot it was at something Rasputin said, warmed him straight through.

Later, when he smelled her apple shampoo in the steamy shower, desire and longing tangled hard on memory. He'd imagined her here when he bought the cabin. A quiet place, away from everything, a place they could both be at ease.

Coming into the kitchen, the sting of possibility still sharp, he found her stirring gumbo and wearing his sweater. Remy stopped for a moment and just thought _Okay, if that's as close to the real thing as you get, that's somethin'._

When she looked over her shoulder, noting his gaze on his shirt, guilt washed her expression. "It's cold. Your sweaters are always warmer 'en mine."

"I don' mind, Anna Marie." Remy could hear the huskiness in his voice, see her awareness of it in the way her eyes narrowed. Distracting her, distracting them both, really, he grabbed her wrist and guided the wooden spoon to his lips, "Gimme a taste." After, still holding her wrist, he thought about it before announcing, "Needs more hot sauce."

"Like hell it does! I don't want to burn my stomach linin' off." She snatched her hand back then swatted his hand with the spoon. "Next time I'm'a take a page from Tante Mattie and chuck it at your fool head. Get outta here if you want to eat any of what I'm cookin'."

Chuckling, he backed away. "She'd like you, my Tante."

Rogue gave him a look both pitying and smug. "Honey, she'd adore me 'cause I'd worship at her feet and share all your secrets with her."

But his eyes gleamed and he grinned 'til color flooded her gold-dust cheeks. "Not all my secrets." He winked, then slid out the back door. It was as cold as fuck.

Which was exactly what Rogue said the next morning when he hauled her out in a little bateau. Laughing, he tugged a toboggan down on her head. "If you doin' it right, a fuck should be anything but cold."

"Sometimes you don't know it is 'til it's over." Their eyes met and darted away from one another. She couldn't pull the words back in and probably didn't want to.

He had to move around them. "In wid you now. Trust me. It gonna be worth the wake up call and the cold ass cheeks." Standing in the bateau, steadying it with his body weight, he offered her his hand. For a moment, he thought she'd go right back inside. And for a moment, it was like that first time, all over again. If she turned back now, he'd lost her forever.

Then her gloved hand touched his and in she came. Not without a scowl. She made him do all the paddling too. "It'd help you warm up."

"Shut it, Tom Sawyer. This better be damn good."

In the mist and quiet, the moon glowed over the water and he knew it was absolutely worth it. The sun brushed color on the sky and she tipped her cheek on to her up drawn knees. "Another sunrise. Been a lot of those this week."

"Ssh. Just watch."

So they did, while the world turned to fire and smoke around them on a cold Saturday morning in January.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The title comes from a song (well, and their morning boat ride) my mom taught me as a kid.

A boy and a girl in a little canoe with the moon shinin' all around

and as he plied his paddle, you couldn't even hear a sound.

So they talked and they talked til the moon grew dim,

he said "you gotta kiss me or get out and swim."

So watcha gonna do in a little canoe with the moon shinin' all around?

A boy and a girl in a little canoewith the moon shinin' all around

and as he plied his paddle, you couldn't even hear a sound.

So they talked and they talked til the moon grew dim,

he said "you gotta kiss me or get out and swim."

So watcha gonna do in a little canoe with the moon shinin' all's, boat floatin' all'a, girl swimmin' all around? Oh, yeeeeaaah!

I've heard another version where the girl takes over the boat and the boy swims. That seems like what Rogue would do.


	58. Chapter 57: Somethin' to Talk About

**Chapter 57:** Somethin' to Talk About

"**P**ete's not the first guy I've been with since you."

It was two days later and they'd settled into a routine, although confessions of that sort hadn't played a part so far. Remy carefully put down the scrabble tiles he'd been contemplating, lifted his head, and raised a brow. "You tryin' to distract me? 'Cause you're already winnin'; you don't need that kinda strategy, chère."

Rogue lifted a shoulder, the sweater she'd yet to return to him sliding off to reveal smooth skin. "No, of course not. I'm…we…Damn it." Her eyes went bright with color that cracked the green. "I don't want to go back to New York with all this, this…" her hands gestured between them in a push and pull, trying to indicate the tension and the years and the mess between them. "Just _this_. I miss you. Even if I have kinda hated you a few times since we both came back. And if you really regret…if you really…in the car you kinda indicated maybe you didn't really mean the thing you did," she spoke so fast the words ran together, as if she had to spit them out just that quickly or maybe not say them at all. "So if you weren't just being spiteful by..or, after, after…..we, uh, were, we.."

"Had sex?" He supplied as she fumbled.

Rogue nodded; green-eyes a multi-chromatic cobweb and unnaturally bright darted down to her fidgeting hands, then back to his face. "Right. That." She took a long breath, which was good since it seemed like she hadn't breathed through most of what came before. "If you didn't have a plan just to hurt me by…sleepin' with me, then I'd rather figure out if we can get over it."

Remy, seated on the floor in front the couch with Anna Marie mirroring him across the low table, leaned back. Setting one arm on an up-drawn knee and stretching the other on the cushions behind him, he eventually nodded. "I didn't have a plan, Anna Marie. That was impulse." He wasn't ready to say what had motivated the impulse, wasn't ready to reveal the complicated feelings when he'd grabbed her in her room: the desperation just to touch her, the lash of anger that she felt sorry for him, the pride that took him off guard when he saw how in control and confident was, or the ache that came from knowing she'd been better able to find that control and confidence with him out of the picture. "I'd like us to clear things up some more, too, but that don't mean you gotta tell me who all you been sleepin' wid, Anna Marie."

She gave him a lift of single eyebrow. "I wasn't intending to name names, Remy. But I don't want you…" What? Harboring ill will towards Piotr? Thinking she'd done nothing but pine for him after she'd seen him with Yaxeni? She took a deep breath and started that "I don't want things I didn't say to be snakes in the grass, not anymore." Lesson learned the hard way.

"Alright, Rogue."

"After I saw you with Yaxeni, I decided I had to…I needed…" This was harder than she'd thought it would be and she'd thought it would be like getting decapitated with a rusty spork.

Remy bumped her hip with the leg he'd stretched under the table and gave her an asymmetric smile. After a moment, she leaned her elbows on the table and continued. "I did a sort of walk about. Professor Xavier knew but I asked him and Moira not t'tell anyone. I spent some time in Europe, then in Africa, on the coast. Learned to surf. Met a boy. Another mutant. It was after him that I felt like I could go home again and be okay."

"How long were ya'll together?" Remy asked, then held up a hand. "Wait? Are we askin' each other questions?"

Rogue nodded. "Sure. We were together a few months. It was…easy."

"Ya'll still in touch?"

Rogue nodded again.

"Rasputin' know all this?"

Another nod.

"Okay."

She waited for him to say more, but, when he didn't, Rogue urged, "You have anything else you want to know about…anything?"

Remy pushed himself up from the floor. "Maybe we take this a little at a time, Anna Marie?" She pulled back sharply, rapping her elbow on the table. Remy sighed. "No, now, don't go jumpin' to no conclusions. This is…good. But, it's gonna go both ways, yeah? And maybe we jus' don't need to tell everythin' in one sittin'." He held those mercurial and murky eyes with his own until it seemed she believed him. Then said, as an offer and an exit, "I'm gonna start dinner."

It was late, well after dinner, when Remy interrupted the movie they were watching. He hit pause and, without looking at Rogue, said, "There were women, before Yaxeni. I waited…a long time. It wasn't til after Cass told me to stop sendin' you things that I—"

Not wanting to hear this, Rogue cut in. "Remy, I know you've with other women. You don't have to—"

"I know you know," he interjected in turn. "I hate the way you found out." He slid her a sidelong look, eyes glowing slightly in the faint light. "Both ways you found out: findin' me with Yaxeni and then me sayin' what I said after we were together."

Rogue pleated the sleeve of his sweater; eyes focused on her fingers. "Did you care about them?"

There was a pause as if he were translating her words from a familiar but not often used language. "You mean did I love them?" Their eyes met. He shook his head. "I cared for a couple of them, but I didn't —I was never in love with anyone else."

Remy turned the movie back on.

* * *

**A**nd so it went, even when they started back to New York. Sometimes the confessions were difficult, like when Remy asked for details about her time with Moira. Other times, they were ridiculous. "I started watching _The 100_ without you."

Remy gasped. "_Bon Dieu_! Such treachery! I introduced that to you!"

Rogue, laughing, had tossed popcorn at him. "And I watched _Rear Window_ and _Ant Man_."

"I was going to watch the _Gilmore Girls_ reunion without you," he answered with a wicked grin.

Rogue hissed air in and lurched back. "Cold. That's ice cold."

By the time they'd returned to the mansion, things were….Rogue didn't know what to call them. Better? Good? Different? The same as they used to be? Unable to categorize it, she knew only that she felt lighter than she had in a very long time and sure about Remy in a way she hadn't been, well, ever.

Early on she'd doubted his friendship, never understanding why or how he was interested in her, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. This time, as they mended their relationship, built the new over the old, she didn't question his loyalty, his motives. She didn't second-guess her worthiness as a friend, as a companion. That, in fact, was the most surprising realization: so much of her doubt before hadn't been about Remy but about herself.

By the time they reached home, she was smiling they were still teasing and Rogue was smiling easily. Still, she wondered: "How come we're always stuck in a car together?" Asked as he parked in the garage and she flicked her seatbelt off.

"Stuck? You wound me, _petite_." Remy slanted a grin her way, though, as he climbed out of the car.

"Oh, hush yourself." She frowned at him over the car's hood. "You ain't no more wounded then I am a three legged dog with a porcupine for dinner."

At that bit of colorful language Remy stared, then burst out laughing. "Who you channelin' now, chère, 'cause I sure hope that didn't come out your own imagination."

Rogue stuck her tongue out at him, then launched an empty soda bottle at his head. "Oh, shut up, Cajun," said as he caught the bottle easily and grinned, with brows arched, at her. "I'm tired, I could sleep for a week, and every part of my body feels crimped."

Grabbing both of their bags, Remy tried not to bask in the glow of the easy teasing. Tried not to think about the fact that he'd tucked her ponytail over her shoulder in the car and she hadn't flinched away or tensed up. "Well, let's get you into a hot bath, chère, so you can steam the wrinkles out."

Rogue yanked her bag from him and gave a hard hip-check that sent him stumbling. "I'll wrinkle you in a minute," muttered darkly and nonsensically.

Remy gave a short bark of laughter as he stepped back to her side. "Now that's gotta be someone's mother. I ain't never heard someone say that without bein' a momma."

"I feel like I'm with a toddler," said grimly, though each side of her mouth seemed to be compressed unnaturally as if, perhaps, trying to contain a smile. "Probably oughta swat your bottom 'cause I'm pretty damn certain you need it."

Remy purred and slid an arm over her shoulder. His eyes, heavy lidded and glowing, focused on hers. "_Mon petite_, how'd you know I like that? You gon' wear leather when you do it? 'Cause, Mistress, I been a bad, bad boy."

For a moment, Anna Marie's mouth gaped and her cheeks went hot. Remy, well, he just roared with laughter. He was laughing so hard it was a wonder he managed to follow a now indignant Rogue into the house and towards the stairs to their rooms.

"Aw, come on, chère. I was teasin', me." Rogue shot a look over one shoulder and he tried to put on an innocent face 'cause her gold-dust skin and mermaid eyes had a certain lethality to them that made him wary despite his amusement.

But he had some trouble when Rogue bounced off Kitty and bumbled down a step. His hand was at her back, though, making sure she didn't fall. Didn't mean he didn't choke on a laugh. Rogue, once fully steady, flipped him off, though she didn't bother looking at him as she did.

"Sorry, Kitty."

Kitty just shook her head, blue eyes bouncing from Rogue to Remy and back again. "No problem, just glad Remy caught you. You all need to drop your bagas and get to Xavier's office; we've been waiting on you two."

Rogue started to ask what was up, and then decided it would just be quicker to get to the professor's office. "See you in a minute."

She jogged off but when Remy started up after her, Kitty stalled him by grabbing his arm. "That didn't seem like she wanted to murder you." He looked at her with amused skepticism. "Okay, yeah, but in the pre-_actually_-wishing-you-harm murder you sense. Are things…" she trailed off suggestively.

"We've been talkin'," Remy offered a tempered version of the turn he'd felt they'd taken.

"And you told her you still—"

"_Non."_ Remy flashed a worried gaze up the stairs, making certain Rogue wasn't there. "We're tryin' to be friends again. Real friends, _'tite chatte._ Dat's plenty of work on its own." Without adding the fact that, thought he knew she was with Piotr, he was still in love with the feisty Mississippian.

Kitty gave his arm a squeeze. "I'm rooting for you."

Remy gave her a smile, softer than those brash and teasing grins he'd been shooting Rogue, and leaned forward to kiss the top of her dark head. "Thank you, _ange_."

There was no hint of the tender or the raucous when everyone was gathered in Charles's office. Instead, the senior team stood quietly while Charles brought them up to date on what had been learned at the auction and since.

"There is no putting the collar technology out of reach. There are too many. Their distribution was…hampered. There was an explosion at the site where they were being manufactured in Chicago."

"Magneto," Rogue breathed softly.

Charles looked at her, tipping his head. "Most likely, particularly given John's warning. It is, still, however, only a minor hindrance. The collars will soon be, if they are not already, in the hands of governments and anti-mutant factions as well as those willing to capitalize on fear."

"Those collars aren't like Moira's. They ain't safe, professor."

"I know, Rogue, and yet, there is nothing we can do except to continue to monitor the situation. If there comes a time when our intervention would be gainful," he splayed his palms, "then, of course, we'll act. In the meantime, we're looking at political options.

The landscape has changed irrevocably."

"So has Storm's hair," Remy commented with a sly smile into the otherwise tense and foreboding silence.

Storm, now sporting a mohawk, glanced at her long time friend with equanimity. "You disapprove?"

"Not at all, Ororo." He looked her over with shameless appreciation. "You look hot."

Bobby turned pink. Then, when Beast chimed his agreement, Iceman went red. Kitty, unable not to laugh at her fiancé, piped up as well. "Seriously, Storm. You look…amazing."

Charles, appreciating the lightening of the tension, smiled slightly at his team. "That is all for now." Looking down, the Professor made note of something, and lifted his hand. "There is one smaller, less serious matter. Gambit, do you have a moment? We need to discuss where you'd like to go next."

It was all Remy could do not to look across the room to where Rogue stood with Pete, the Russian's hand curled with hers. His semester was over. His penance was done. He'd made a kind of peace with Rogue and reconnected with the others. But, he no longer wanted to escape. Sticking his hands in his pockets, the Cajun looked steadily at Charles and said, voice casual, "Ah, I was thinkin' I'd finish the school year, Professor. If that's alright with you."

"That is excellent news. We won't have to change class assignments. Thank you all."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ya'll are super sweet. Hope you continue to enjoy!


	59. Chapter 58: Hers & His

**Chapter 58: **Hers &amp; His

Maybe they didn't have to change class assignments, but Rogue sometimes wished they had.

"Rogue," Remy leaned on their shared desk while she sat putting papers into folders. She kept accidentally brushing his hip with her knuckles but felt it would be oddly obvious if she scooted herself and her papers an inch to the right. "I'm thinkin' we should have some of the older students do a Q &amp; A with the younger ones after their first field experience. Whatch you think, _catin_?"

"Sure, Gambit. I think that's a great idea." He smelled good. Familiar. She tucked papers into student files. "When's the next first field experience?"

"February, I'm thinkin', they got one scheduled. Have t'check in wid Cyclops." He smiled. She'd swear she could feel it and drew her gaze up to the crooked, sinful expression. "Now, I can talk to him, me, but I don' know if his animosity ain't gonna make it hard for him to see the benefit."

Rogue snorted, leaning back in the chair and their eyes gleamed with mutual amusement. "Mhmm. Sure, sugar, that's all him. Ain't got nothin' to do with you."

Remy nudged her leg with his own. "What you insinuatin', _ange_? I make de _misèrie_ for Cyclops? Our fearless leader? I'm shocked, _chère_."

Rogue went to nudge his leg with her hand but he caught it, held on. "I think you're a trouble maker and I'm immune to your charm, Cajun. Your idea, you go play nice with Scott."

"But you're prettier."

"And nicer and more likable," Rogue agreed. "So you need the practice or you won't grow none as a person. And what kinda teacher would I be if I didn't try an' help you learn?" Rogue stood, sliding her hand from his grasp. But now she was standing close and eye-to-eye as he was slumped there on the edge of the desk.

"I always did have a fantasy about this one teacher I had." His eyes were heavy, his smile teasing.

Rogue, laughing, rolled her eyes and scooped up her papers. Dropping them into her bag, she slanted him a sassy look of her own. Her mouth opened but Piotr's voice preempted her. "Anna, are you ready to go?"

"Sure thing, hon." She gave Remy's knee a pat. "Good luck, sugar. I'm sure Scott'll just be eager to help you out."

Pete watched Remy as Rogue came to him, then nodded before setting his hand low on her back. "How was your class, Anna?"

"Good, Pete." Rogue glanced over her shoulder, giving a grin to Remy and a wave, then focused forward. "How was yours, sugar?"

"Good as well." There was a pause, just the sound of their feet on the floor as they clipped along. "I'm going to miss you. I already put your bags in the car. The others are waiting."

Passing the big man her school bag, Rogue danced in front of him and went up on her toes. She clasped his face in her palms and gave him a quick, soft kiss. "Thanks, handsome."

Pete smiled and brushed a hand affectionately over her hair before taking her hand and guiding her toward the garage. "I will miss that."

Rogue, laughed, and gave him a hip bump. "Mmhmm. It's one night, Piotr. Now, I know we've been apart a lot just lately. You sure you don't mind?"

"This will be your first fitting for Kitty's wedding, yes?" Piotr settled deep blue eyes on her, his expression inquisitive and studious. "And she wants to look at accessories and flowers and things?"

Rogue had a hard time not snickering as he listed the wedding bits and looked at her seriously. "Sure, Pete."

"It is important, solemn work." He brushed a finger along her cheek. "Although you are the least solemn woman I know. Enjoy yourselves, Anna. I'll be here when you return. Besides, I have much work to do."

"You cain't work the whole time. I want you to go out, Pete." She swung in front of him again as they reached the door to the garage. She poked his chest. "I ain't kiddin'. Classes only been back in a week and I don't think you've come to bed before midnight in that time and then you're up at six."

His brow furrowed. "I have been neglecting you."

"No, Pete." Rogue clapped her palms on his chest. "You've been neglecting you." Up on her toes she gave him another kiss. "Go out for a guy's night, sugar."

"I'm not certain that is a thing I would do."

"Sure. Get Scott and Logan and Bobby and, uh, Gambit would probably go." She flashed a bright smile, and then opened the door. "I wanna hear about this when I get back. Get movin'."

Piotr did not look pleased at this idea, but as several women cheered as they got a peek of Rogue, he didn't think it was the time to discuss it. "We'll see, Rogue. You have your good time."

Rogue laughed, winked at her friends, then gave her man a swat to the ass that sent heat into his cheeks and a look to his eye that had her skipping backwards toward her friends while blowing him a kiss.

"You swatted Colossus' ass." Tabitha observed astutely only after the Russian was out of hearing.

"I know. Ain't he cute when he blushes?" Rogue ducked into the back seat, where her satchel was waiting, the rest of her gear stowed in the trunk with everyone else's. "Let's go, ladies. I could use a man free weekend."

"You wanna be free of that?" Boom Boom flashed Rogue a look in the rearview mirror. "I'll take him off your hands for a few."

Rogue just laughed and looked back at the house as they peeled away.

* * *

**O**nly a couple of hours later, Boom Boom maneuvered them through the busy city towards their destination.

Jubilee leaned forward. "You said it's a mutant only boutique?"

Kitty turned the music down and twisted slightly. "No. It's owned and run by mutants, but only other mutants know their status, so there are non-mutant customers. But," she grinned and did a little wiggle in her seat, "I booked us a private room. Your dresses came in Tuesday and they have mine and there'll be champagne and food and it's going to be amazing."

And, it was. There was plush carpet and deep, low seats to cuddle into while whomever was getting fitted stood on a platform in front a three-way mirror. There were appetizers to pluck up and eat, sweet and savory. It was as divine as advertised. Except for, maybe, the conversation and that wasn't the boutique's fault.

"That's discrimination," Jubilee said for the three-thousandth time since the news radio had reported on more state-led anti-mutant legislation; legislation that had come in a hateful wave in the weeks since Chicago. Since the bombing of a factory that was purported to make auto-parts had been the victim of a mutant terrorist attack.

"We're not a protected class," Kitty rejoined, tugging on the wedding dress she wore.

"Sure we are." Tabby tipped her half empty champagne glass towards Kitty's reflection in the mirror as the bride-to-be pulled up on the sleeveless gown. "That's still too loose."

"She's coming back to fix it," Kitty replied. "Now, what do you mean we're a protected class?"

"We're U.S. citizens and that should be the end of it," Tabby explained. "Of course, it isn't the end of it. If we aren't human then," she gestured again with her glass, "I guess, they'll say the laws don't apply to us." Which was the central argument for the legislation getting introduced around the country.

"Still discussing that then?" Kathy, the seamstress, closed the door behind her. She eyed Kitty before digging into her utility apron, full of magical seamstressy things (per Rogue) and began tucking and pinning.

Rogue, watching in fascination, nodded. "Sure are. Don't know why, though, it ain't like it's a surprise."

"You're not mad about it, Rogue?" Jubilee exclaimed, sitting forward so she could peer around Tabitha and look, aghast, at the Southerner.

"Furious," she answered promptly. But then she set her cheek on an up-drawn knee. "All the damn time. And tired of bein' furious and tired of bein' afraid and tired of everything always bein' so damn difficult. Why cain't we just be kinder to each other? Is it really so hard?

"I'm listenin' to this book and in the first five minutes you find out Chris Columbus was a sociopathic asshat. And you find out in a way they ain't teachin' in school. He hunted the Indians down on Cuba and in Haiti when they failed to dig up enough gold, an amount of gold that didn't exist there by the way, and chopped off their hands. They committed mass suicides and killed their newborn babies to save them from the Spaniards.

And we had a holiday, wait, _have_ a holiday with his name on it. As a species, we sure are fucked up." Her gold skin flushed then. "I'm sorry, ma'am, 'bout the language."

Kathy gave her a sympathetic look. "We are fucked up, hon." Then she smiled and the incongruity of fucked up and her white hair would have knocked them over, if she didn't also have flawless skin, a Baltimore accent, and legs Jubilee had already said she'd kill for. "True is true."

After a longer pause, all of them wearing dark looks, Jubilee gave her head a shake like a dog coming in from a hard rain. "Okay, enough. We're drinking champagne and watching Kitty get fitted in her wedding dress and we aren't going to talk about depressing things right this second. So," Jubilee took a long inhale. "Kitty. Are you and Bobby going to have sex right up to the wedding or try and be celibate so the night of is bow-chicka-bow-wow?"

* * *

"**So**, guy's night?" Bobby said, hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. He and Remy were waiting in the foyer and Iceman couldn't think of a worse idea than going out with Gambit no matter whom else might act as a buffer.

Gambit, to be fair, was thinking similar thoughts. "Looks like it."

"Well, almost." Ororo, looking stunning in a slim black suit with a white satin blouse that dipped low between her breasts, joined them. "Scott and Jean will be here shortly."

"Where's Pete? Wasn't this his idea?" Bobby asked, looking towards the stairs as if expecting Colossus to appear.

"He's on his way as well, Bobby," Ororo offered as she stepped close to Remy and smoothed the collar of his shirt. "Green isn't a usual color for you. Though it's nice."

He looked, momentarily, uncomfortable. It was only an impression she had before the brilliance of his smile eclipsed the notion.

"Thanks, 'Ro," said as he bent to kiss her cheek. "You're lookin' pretty divine your own self. Plannin' on goin' home wid somebody?"

She offered him a sly smile as answer.

Before Remy could press, Logan's growl rumbled between them, "Are we goin' or what?"

Bobby suddenly realized there were worse things than him and Gambit going out, chiefly going out with Gambit and Logan and no Rogue to play zookeeper. His soon to be wife, who'd texted him he should really go to the thing because Colossus, was going to owe him; she'd owe him if, of course, he survived the night.

At least Piotr, Scott, and Jean had shown up on Wolverine's tail. So to speak.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," Bobby urged and wished, only too soon, he hadn't.

Logan insisted on taking his bike. Scot and Jean invited Ro to ride with them; that left him and Gambit and Piotr. "This a joke?" Bobby muttered to himself, though not low enough because Gambit slapped a hand to his back. When Bobby looked over he thought the wry smile the other man wore looked strained.

"_Non_, _mon ami_, this is somethin' worse, I think." Gambit spoke low enough that only Bobby heard him before the Cajun rounded the car and they all three got in. To silence. Weird, tense, we've all dated the same lady silence. And their destination was a half-hour away.

Bobby reached for the music and bumped his hand into Remy's in a way that made their fingers tangle. Remy slashed him a smile. "Now, Kitty she one of m'good friends, so I don't think I can be holdin' hands with you. Wouldn't be right."

Bobby snorted, some music came on, and they pretended this was a nice, normal drive.

Of course, when there was a lull between songs the illusion cracked. Remy, slanting a quick sideways look at Bobby, attempted conversation. "So the girls're out getting' ready for dis weddin', what're your responsibilities?"

Bobby didn't think Gambit was really interested. Still, he had to answer. Lowering the radio's sound, Bobby cleared his throat. "Uh, Kitty and I are making a lot of the decisions together. But I'll be dealing with making the reception," his mouth curved into a smile, "an iced fairyland. Her words. And, uh, I still need to get a tux. Ask my groomsmen to be in the wedding."

Remy nodded. "Not bad. An' I guess you get a cake tastin', _oui_? Dat part sounds like fun, no?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, in a couple of weeks."

"Your groomsman will be travelling from where you used to live?" Piotr asked, his eyes meeting Bobby's in the rearview mirror.

"My best man will, yeah. I actually wanted to talk to you, Pete, and you, Gambit, about that." Bobby really was impressed with the fact that the Cajun's face didn't contort into shock. "My best man will be a guy from home, but, um, my family isn't really…I doubt my folks and my brother will even come. But, I was hoping you guys would be my groomsman."

"I would be honored," Piotr said immediately.

Gambit, on the other hand, laughed. "You sure 'bout dat?"

Bobby laughed right back, scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Your one of Kitty's best friends. And she was going to have you stand up with her, but after we had a fight about who Rogue would stand up with-"

"And you lost," Remy interjected with amusement.

"And I lost," Bobby confirmed, "I figured she'd be happy if you were one of my groomsman and that'd make us even on the attendant side of things."

Remy was quiet for a while as they drove, the music a mumble of notes and words in the background. "Guess I gotta start callin' you by your right name, yeah?"

Bobby chuffed an almost laugh. "I'd appreciate it but didn't figure I had much to bargain with."

Remy shrugged. "You're good for Kitty. You make her happy, Bobby, an' dat's enough for me."

Later, still enjoying their détente, Remy and Bobby sat side by side on barstools and watched Ro dancing with Logan.

Bobby might've been a little drunk. "Do you think they're…"

"Don't go there you want me to keep rememberin' your name," Gambit warned, downing another shot. He was working on a nice buzz. It would burn itself out before he had to drive, though; 'course, if he kept drinkin', Piotr was sticking to two drink max so they were covered on a DD.

Bobby snorted and watched as Piotr twirled Jean very formally; a number of young women seemed to physically swoon. Gesturing toward Colossus with his beer bottle, Bobby forgot that he didn't want to be involved and asked, "Isn't this weird for you? Out with me and Colossus?"

Gambit, elbows on the bar behind his back, tilted a freshly delivered bottle close to his mouth, drawling the words before touching glass to his wryly curved mouth. "Aside from de fact I don' like you, why would it be weird?"

Bobby laughed, glancing from Colossus and back to Gambit. "You're in love with his girl."

Remy lowered his bottle slowly and looked hard at the blurry-eyed Iceman. "Fuckin' Shadowcat." As if he should've known she'd tell her fiancé.

"ShadowKitty didn't tell me."

In other circumstances, the mangled name would've made him laugh. Right now, though, Gambit took a long swallow of the beer to cool his throat before responding. "Then how de hell you know dat?"

Bobby looked at the Cajun, incredulous at first, then amused. "I'm the guy you stole her from, remember? I know what you in love with Marie looks like. And it's never looked like anything else between you two."

"It ain't like dat now." Gambit's face, now, was an unreadable mask.

Not that his expressionlessness phased Bobby, buzzing on all the alcohol and smug about his conclusions. "Sure it is. You're in love with her and she doesn't quite trust you. Seems like you're right back where you started." Bobby ignored the glow that started up in Gambit's red-on-black gaze. "Or maybe not. S

"She's more open than she was when she and I dated. More likely to maybe fall for Colossus. Not that I think so. They never fight. Not ever. Rogue's got all that," Bobby waved a hand, "spark and fire and life and they never fight. Sure, okay, maybe that's healthy and junk, but I think it means she doesn't really care, you know?" When he looked over again, the stool was empty. Scanning the bar he soon found the Cajun dancing with a tall woman with black hair and spiked heels. He touched his index finger to his nose. "Good plan. Throw Colossus off the scent."

"Throw me off of what scent, Robert?"

Bobby nearly fell off his stool. "You're too big to be so quiet, dude!"

Piotr chuckled and clapped Bobby on the back, nearly knocking him off the stool again. "You're drunk, my friend."

"Yup!" Bobby gave him a beatific smile. "I'm getting married to my best girl. You're dating my ex-best girl who was never MY best girl in the first place."

"Ah, yes, she's my best girl now, is Anna."

Bobby laughed. "Not really."

Piotr, still amused, said only, "Oh?"

"Nah, she's _his_ best girl." He gestured with his mostly empty beer bottle to the dance floor, to Remy and the woman he moved with as if no one else existed. "I don't think anything's changin' that even if you two are dating. 'Course, looks like he's going to ditch us to make that lady his best barfly of the night. Damn. Think we can catch a ride with Ro?"

Piotr never answered. He did catch Bobby before the man fell on his own face, though.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ya'll are super sweet! And super perceptive! No, I don' think they'll be mending things without a few more sparks. And neither does anyone else, it seems.

Just a huge thank you to everyone for sticking around for the slow ramble of this story. And keeping up the comments; they are so appreciated. And they help me shape the story, sometimes getting at something that I'd been struggling with but unable to pinpoint as a problem for myself. SO THANK YOU!

Also just super glad to see so many familiar faces: E, RogueQueen69, Cerrunos, Heartbreak Lane, Warrior-Princess1980, Jehilew, Tinkstar87, Angelz921, and Couplest! And some new ones: Malice Shaw! No Clever Name (although, I suppose you could have reviewed at some point under another name), Hollyoakleaves, SK Steven! And sooo many more of you! My work schedule is, as ever lately, nuts, and I haven't had a chance to respond to you all individually as much but I'm trying to keep up the momentum as it's really, really almost finished. I just wanted to let you know what a nice boost it is to get a new favorite or follow or comment, especially during some long ass work days. Hope your spring is starting off well! (Despite the snow some of us have seen!) Stay tuned!


	60. Chapter 59: Easy Like Sunday Morning

**Chapter 59:** Easy Like Sunday Morning

**B**obby spent the next day in bed and felt mostly human Sunday morning despite Kitty's wake-up: her body cannonballing into their bed. Groaning, he grabbed for her and tucked her into his side, nudged his face into her hair. "Never, ever, ever leave me again and make me go out with 'the guys'. Promise. Swear on your life! On _my_ life!"

Kitty, laughing, nuzzled into him. "You don't smell like a brewery so it can't have been that bad."

Bobby tipped his head down to peer at her as if she were crazy. "We went out Friday night, Kit. Friday. I've been in bed since yesterday. Except for the shower I took sometime last night."

"Aww." Kitty gave him a fake look of sympathy, a smacking kiss, and then shook him roughly. "What happened? Was it great? Were you drunk? I know you were drunk 'cause you texted me about how much you missed me and how pretty my hair is and how you want to pet me," her voice turned baby-pout cute, "like a sweet wittle kitty." Bobby winced and Kitty laughed. "Spill the beans, husband to be. What happened?"

Sitting up slowly, Bobby scrubbed a hand through bed-rumpled hair. He shook his head. "I'm fuzzy on it, but I think I told Pete that Marie and Remy were some destined, epic couple. How was your weekend?"

* * *

"Not that excitin'," Anna Marie sat in the middle of Pete's bed late in the afternoon and narrowed her eyes at him. "Nothin' excitin' happened Friday night? I mean, Saturday I know you worked and studied all day, but ya'll went out and you didn't have fun?"

Pete finished pulling on a fresh sweater and then sat down next to her. He laid a hand on her thigh and smiled into that bright face of hers. "No, Anna. Bobby drank a little too much. Ororo and Logan danced in a way that may have incited him to drink a little too much. I missed you." Leaning in, he kissed her briefly.

But Anna's hands came up, slid through his dark hair and held him close. "Sugar, what's the matter? You aren't tellin' me somethin'."

But Pete gave a little shake of his head. "No, Anna, there's nothing to tell that you don't already know." When he kissed her again, the kiss went deeper, longer. Soon, she was peeling up the sweater he'd just put on. Which meant they weren't getting dinner until much, much later.

But Anna and Piotr weren't the only ones who came downstairs for a late dinner on Sunday. Bobby, Kitty, and Remy were already at a table when she and Pete came in. There were nods exchanged while they piled their plates, but Rogue just barely contained her glee until they sat.

"I heard," Rogue began with a sly smile as she sat, "Iceman got soused on Friday night." Beside her, Peter tensed. Rogue shot a quick, questioning look at the big Russian.

Bobby winced. "Yeah. Not real clear on what happened, Rogue, so I don' think—"

"Pete and Gambit probably tell ya," Rogue volunteered, still amused and only just realizing she was the only one finding humor in the situation.

"Bobby's a pretty borin' drunk," Remy offered with a Gallic shrug. "He just like to talk, him, mostly bout kitty and this iced fairyland, yeah?"

"Really? That's it?" Rogue's voice and shoulders slumped. "Piotr said it wasn't excitin' but that's Pete. Place coulda blown up and he'd give me that calm look and say," she put on his accent, "It was nothing really, just a little fire."

The Russian didn't return her smile of affection. Instead, he stroked a hand down the mess of curly, white-shot hair and lifted from his seat. "I forgot to send an email for a class I am taking. I must do that now."

"Hey, I can wait…for ya." Rogue trailed off as Pete was already gone, his untouched dinner sitting beside her at the table. Feeling the others looking at her, she summoned up a smile that felt brittle and pretended there was no painful sting in her chest, her throat, or at the back of her eyes. "Guess it must be time sensitive." Locking eyes with Bobby, thinking he was the safest bet, she chirped, "So, what's this about Logan and Storm?"

They laughed about it, forced at first and then relaxed again into conversation. Still, she didn't stay long, finishing about half her meal before excusing herself to clean her and Pete's plates. After, she wasn't expecting Remy to follow her out, but he caught up to her in the hall. Tucking his hands into his pockets, the Cajun murmured, "You alright, _chère?_"

Anna flashed that smile, the fake one, again. Remy shook his head. "Don't, Anna Marie. I know when somethin' is wrong and somethin' is wrong."

"I'm tired, that's all." It wasn't true and she knew he knew, but she couldn't talk to him about the weird feeling she'd had in the pit of her stomach since stepping into Pete's room this morning. "I'll shake it off, okay? Just gonna curl up with a movie."

Remy continued walking with her in silence, but as they reached the stairs he said, "Want company?"

She started to say no, but the fact was she didn't want to be alone and she wasn't real sure Pete was going to come to her bed tonight; she was pretty sure she wasn't invited to his. "Sure."

There was a moment, in the room, when they both couldn't help but the think of the last two times he'd been in there. Anna tugged at the sleeve of her shirt, pulling it down over her fingertips. It was an old and familiar tell; Remy forgot to stop himself from reaching out and catching her hand in his. "No need to be nervous, Anna. I ain't gonna bite."

"Unless I ask you to?" She sassed with a smile, then blushed hot. "So, what're you in the mood for? Like, uh, movie mood?" Turning, she caught her tongue between her teeth and rolled her eyes, not realizing Remy could see the whole production in her mirror.

He laughed and tugged at one of those long curls. "We done this before, Anna. We can…figure it out again. Bein' friends. Shoes off. On the bed. Then, we'll get our Netflix on."

They didn't touch, there on the bed, but she did snuggle down as the movie they put on wound up and wound down. After it ended, she begged him to stay for another and fell asleep almost before the opening credits had finished rolling.

Remy tucked her in, turned off the television, and reluctantly left her room. There were no more friendly bed piles with Anna. She sure wouldn't appreciate wakin' up to find him there and, he figured, neither would Pete.

Except it turned out Pete wasn't real happy about finding him slipping out of her room quietly, shoes in hand, sometime after midnight. The Russian's gaze met Remy's in the dimly lit hall, something hard around his mouth and jaw.

Remy knew that, aside from his own thoughts, he and Rogue hadn't done anything wrong. But he held up his free hand after clicking her door shut softly. "Don't get no ideas, Colossus. We just watched a movie and she fell asleep."

"You want I should be calm but you aren't worried I will be otherwise. I am always calm, no?"

Remy wasn't real sure what that meant, but he had a feeling it wasn't nothin' good. "Maybe we oughta get out of in front of her door. Girl's got hearin' like a bat when people are fightin'."

Colossus gave a nod and turned, walking down the hallway as if not doubting Remy would follow.

Inside Pete and Anna's library —it's how Remy thought of the room these days—Piotr brought up the dim light of a hurricane lamp to supplement what came through the curtained windows.

Gambit decided to begin when the other man didn't say anything else. "Seriously. She just seemed a little down an' I thought she could use a friend."

"Is that what you are, Gambit? A friend?"

Gambit dropped his shoes by a chair, moved to the fire. Busied himself crouching down to light it. "Sure thing, Piotr, same as I am to you."

Piotr didn't smile or nod in agreement, saying instead, in his serious way, "I do not think either of us think it is the same."

Remy worked on the kindling, used his breath to stoke the flames. Only after he was satisfied the fire would burn did he stand. Colossus was bigger than him, taller, broader. Remy just tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked on his bare feet. "Well, you an' me ain't never shared a kiss, but basically the same."

Colossus said something sharp in Russian, his tone hard and angry. Then: "Do you want her now? After everything, do you want her now?"

"You offerin'?" Remy said nonchalantly, eyebrows raising with lazy inquiry.

"I want to know if you are in love with her. If you want her. I want to know—""

"Naw, man, you wanna know if she's in love wid me," said as the Cajun lifted one hand to his own chest. "If she wants me and not you." Remy jiggled the change in his pants pockets and gave the Russian a long look. "And I cain't answer dat, though I don't think she is. I…fucked it up, hurt her."

"I know."

"You don't," Remy snapped, sudden and sharp. "You don't know a damn thing about it, Colossus." Gambit took a deep, slow breath to reel himself back in.

"She's your _gaienne_, _homme_. If this is what crawled up your ass today and put that look in her eye, I'm thinkin' you oughta work on that. She don't deserve t'be sad, don't deserve to have you pullin' away 'cause you ain't sure she wants you de same as you want her. Ask her, Piotr, don't just push her away. Girl's had enough dat from me, from her family. Don't know how much more she can take."

Colossus listened, but still said, "On Friday, Bobby said—"

"Drunk Bobby he got a mouth on him dat boy. Don't go listenin' to nothin' Bobby said. Boy was pickled in liquour and missin his Katherine. "

After a long silence, with just the pop and crack of the fire, Piotr spoke again. "I knew how she felt about you, before. Knew she wasn't quite done with those feelings the first time we sat in this room. I don't want to be a second choice."

Remy rubbed a spot on his chest, just above his heart. "Ain't no one I know who does, Colossus."

"Yes, well." With nothing left to say, Piotr moved to the door.

"You goin' to her room or yours?"

A muscle ticked in the big man's jaw, but he closed his hand around the doorknob gently. "No matter where I am going, you'll be going only to yours, Remy."

* * *

**R**ogue woke alone, none the wiser. She debated stopping by Pete's room to pick him up for a shared breakfast, but ultimately chickened out and headed downstairs by herself. Bumping into Jubilee, she thought the other woman looked radiant this morning.

Laughing because Jubilee stood in front of the coffee pot looking dreamy and oblivious, Rogue knocked her aside lightly to get at the coffee. It wasn't Rogue's usual drink, but she could use the shot of caffeine. "What's going on, Sunshine?"

"I can't not tell you!" She skipped in place. "Shane asked me to move in with him."

"In Scotland?" Rogue asked dumbly.

"No, he said he'd move here! He knows how important the team is to me." She gave a little hip shake. "But, come on, Scotland sounds romantic and he's an integral part of Moira's team." She paused for a moment, none of the bright shine going away but her face going serious, "He helped you, right? Like, really helped you?"

Reaching out, Rogue touched gloved fingertips to Jubilee's forearm. "He really, really did. Both times I was there. He's a great guy, Jubilee."

Jubilee nodded, her hair swinging against her jaw in the sleek new bob she'd gotten. "Exactly. So, I met with the professor this morning and he said it was kind of perfect timing because," she stopped, clapped a hand with nails painted a vivid green with white chevrons, to her mouth. "I'm not supposed to say. You, though, are totes supposed to go see the professor. Like, now. Like, shoo!"

"Can I at least get my coffee?" Rogue laughed as Jubilee swatted her ass.

"No! What do your people say? Chop-chop!"

Rogue shot a cup under the dripping coffee maker, filled her cup with what was in the carafe and then dodged another bottom swat from Jubilee. As she dashed out she called over her shoulder, "That phrase is pidgin English derived from Cantonese!"

Jubilee's laughter followed her down the hall as well as a yelled, but reaching her only faintly, "How the hell do you know that?"

Rogue, chuckling over the steaming mug she held in both hands, mumbled to herself. "As if I have any idea how I know half the shit I know." It was all thanks to downloading other people's brains like they were disorganized dictionaries.

Charles's door, when she got there, was open. Rogue gave a quick wrap and tipped forward as if peeking in. "Hey, Professor."

Looking away from the window and towards her, Charles smiled warmly and waved her in. "Close the door behind you, please."

Lifting a brow, she did just that. Charles brought himself close to the seat she took. "Did Jubilee wake you?"

"Naw, but she almost wouldn't let me have my coffee." Rogue grinned, then took a sip. "And I needed this. What can I do for you, Professor?"

"You could begin by telling me what Jubilee told you this morning."

Wary now, despite the amusement on Xavier's face, Rogue set her coffee on a side table. "Nothin'. Said Shane asked her to move to Scotland. No, Shane asked her to move in and suggested he come here, to us. She said Scotland sounded dreamy and started swattin' me out of the kitchen and here to you."

"I'm surprised she managed to keep it to herself." He chuckled lightly and rested his hands on his knees. "When I spoke to Moira this morning, she was surprised at the timing. It seems the idea of having X-Men move to the island is one she has been entertaining; she was preparing to call me later in the week to work something out."

"Doc MacTaggert wants X-Men on staff?" Rogue sounded disbelieving.

"Yes." Charles lifted a hand, tipped it to one side. "And no. Just as tensions are heightened in the United States, so too are they in Europe. With the recent refugee crisis, it has grown much more dire." He steepled his fingers in a familiar move that nearly made Anna smile. "Moira feels that those on her island who want to train to defend themselves and to train to defend themselves with their mutations should have that opportunity. Then, of course, there are her, rather defenseless, patients at the facility. Should a raid come, though they do have a wonderful security system, there are only a few among her staff who could fight.

"Though she sometimes…disagrees with our methods, she understands why we've chosen them. And, now, concerned about the volatility at home, the concerns her people have, she sees this as a solution that will give them a sense of agency and safety."

"And give her some bodyguards," Anna Marie interjected.

Charles smiled. "Not for herself, but yes. Her own stepdaughter has been here sometime now, as you know. She's…her outlook has improved and Moira appreciates that. As does Sean. In fact, they've both asked specifically for you."


	61. Chapter 60: (Missed) Connections

**Chapter 60: **(Missed) Connections

**R**ogue, bursting with the news, went racing to find Piotr. A Piotr that was not in his room, not in the gym, and not in the kitchen. She finally dashed into his classroom, just minutes before he was to teach, and opened her mouth to blurt it all out when, well, she didn't. Instead, Anna Marie stood there smiling dopily at the big man who had paused in sorting papers and stared at her quizzically.

"Uh, wanna get lunch? Later? Off campus?"

"I do not have time to leave for lunch, Anna. I'm sorry." He paused, brows pulling into a frown. "Is something wrong?"

"Dinner?" Asked instead of answering. When he nodded, she spun around and took off away from him almost as quickly as she'd sought him out.

Rogue chalked it up to a possible move to Europe not being the kind of thing you blurted at a boyfriend, but rather the kind of thing you discussed over dinner with him.

Except, later, at dinner, she didn't. Discuss it with him, that is. Instead, every time there was a lull in the conversation or an opportunity to bring up Scotland or Jubilee and transition to her news, she just let that thing roll on by.

And it kept right on rollin' because a day passed and then another and she hadn't said boo about it. Of course, she could rationalize that the time to tell him just hadn't been there. Not really. Their schedules kept getting tangled up and two days turned into three and then five and next thing she knew it had been two weeks. Two weeks and she hadn't mentioned Scotland, or made up her mind about it, and she and Pete had only seen each other long enough to say hello or kiss goodnight. It seemed that, all at once, they were a Missed Connection ad:

_You were that girl with the killer hair I passed in the hallway. You wore knee high socks with panda bears, on your way to bed at 6:00 a.m. and I was the tall man in tweed on his way to teach a class. Would love to share a meal, your dinner and my breakfast seem to match up. _

_Or: You were that tall drink of water heading out on a mission in tactical pants and I was the girl on kid duty, playing hide and seek with the grade schoolers while you saved the world, or at least part of it. Want to get a drink sometime?_

Except, people in those ads seemed to communicate with each other more and more effectively than she and Colossus had lately. Maybe she could try smoke signals or sexting. Or maybe there was somethin' in between.

Contemplating her dilemma, Rogue plowed face-first into Remy's shoulder as she rounded the same corner he did. "Ow! Ow! Fuck!"

Remy, valiantly not laughing, caught her shoulders and tried to look at the nose she was holding. "Hey, hey. You okay?"

"Oh, fuck off! Mother—

"_Catin_, there are kids around, yeah?" She growled and he grinned, carefully peeling one hand back only to find that what was underneath didn't look exactly straight. "Aw, fuck."

"There are kids around," snarked back at him, though the words were muffled by her hands and distorted by what was, they'd both concluded, a broken nose.

"We maybe oughta get you down t'Jean."

"Healing factor," he was pretty sure she said, but, again, the sound was a garbled mess.

"Is it kickin' in?" He asked skeptically because her eyes were watering and she was still holding her nose, her eyes glowing ferociously at him. "Don't Cyclops me, Anna. You de one ran into me." She kicked him in the shin. He cursed, then started laughing. When she laughed too, he tugged her hair companionably.

Then she moaned. "Okay, okay. Don't laugh. Don't laugh." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he ushered her toward medical. "C'mon. Let's get you to Jean, _petite_. If one or the other of the healin' factors kicks in, we'll jus' turn around."

Unfortunately, neither one did. At least, not until after Jean had reset her nose. Remy'd kept a hand on Rogue's back, rubbing soothing circles, the entire time.

Of course, as soon as Jean had locked it back into place, Rogue felt the tingle and they all watched as the swelling disappeared.

"At least you know you'll have no ill side-effects," Jean said when Rogue only scowled, apparently wishing the healing factor had just stayed dormant since she'd gone through the trouble of having her nose set.

"And I'll never figure out how to control that. Stupid, useless, healing factor," muttered.

Remy laughed, bold and loud, then tucked his face into Anna's hair.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Wouldn't be no thing for me to break _your_ nose you that close," Anna snapped as she pushed off of the table.

"Aw, _chère_, don't be mad." Remy tugged at her long, loose curls. "It was jus' an accident, a little bump in de hall."

"It broke my nose!" She whipped around, slapped her hands down on the table she'd been sitting on. "It wasn't that little!"

"Now, now, Anna. I think your nose is a fine size."

"I swear, you mangy Cajun dog,—"

But Remy was laughing too hard to hear the rest of the curse, then Jean had joined him and Anna, finally, threw her hands up. "I hate you both." But there was exasperated humor in her tone when she ordered, "Get it together. Jean, you're a doctor, for cryin' out loud."

"But not immune to farce." Jean wiped delicately under her eyes where they'd begun to water. "I think you'll be just fine. My prescription would be to take the corners in the hallway a bit more widely and a bit more slowly."

This had Remy snickering and earned him another kick in the shin, after Anna rounded the exam table. "Anna, damn it. Dat hurts."

"So did breakin' my nose on your arm. Can you just imagine if I'd had to go around with a broken nose and black eyes and tell everyone I ran into a coonass and that's how I broke it?" Demanded hotly, though Remy knew her well enough to note the way she had to press hard to keep her lips from turning up in amusement. "Well?"

Reaching out, he tucked hair behind her ear. "I can, angel, and dat jus make dis poor Cajun kinda sad you can heal so fast." He dashed back, light on his feet, before she kicked him again. Or maybe bit him because she was growling.

Jean, almost all business again, said mildly, "Get her back to her room. I'm certain she could use a rest."

"I can get myself back."

"Sure you can but I'm a gentleman." Remy winked at the absurdity and slid his hand tentatively to the small of her back. When Rogue didn't kick him again, he took that as progress and guided her towards the door. Glancing over his shoulder he said, "Thanks, Jean," and her eyes met his knowingly. Now he wanted to curse.

Instead, he took Anna Marie to her room and was just about to head back out when she snagged his arm. "Oh, no, you don't. I got prescribed rest 'cause you 'bout knocked me out. You're gonna stay and entertain me, sugar."

"Dat right?"

"Dat's right, po'boy."

"Did you jus' call me a sandwich?"

Rogue didn't answer for a beat. Then: "Yes," sheepishly.

Remy laughed. "I don't think the healin' factor did all you was hopin' for. Go on and lie down, pop chock, and try not to talk. I'll put on a movie." When there was a knock he detoured from the television to open it and found himself face to face with Piotr.

The Russian checked the hall as if to be sure he was at the right room, and then frowned at Remy.

"Ah, Rogue, I don't t'ink you need me to keep you company no more," Remy said while staring at Pete.

She snorted and shot back, "Like, hell, Cajun. It's your fault I'm in bed so get your ass back here."

Piotr's face seemed to blaze. Remy winced, shaking his head and stepping back to let Colossus in the room. "I meant 'cause your boyfriend is here."

Rogue popped up like a jack-in-the-box. "What? Pete?"

"Am I interrupting?"

Remy didn't like the Russian's tone, so he cast him a lazy smile, let his lids go heavy. "Now that you mention it, we were gonna lie in dat bed for a bit. I plumb wore her out."

Rogue's gaze shot over Remy, her mouth hanging ajar like a screen door with a broken hinge.

"I see."

"You do?" Rogue finally found her voice and also a scowl for both men. "Remy broke my nose and Jean told me to rest because she's a doctor and needed to feel useful I guess. So Remy was going to watch a movie with me and you caught all of that from his one sentence?"

Color crept along Piotr's cheekbones; he dropped his gaze from Anna's. "I," he coughed. Delayed. Then: "Remy broke your nose?"

"She broke her own nose. On my shoulder." Remy grinned as Anna shot him another suppressed-smile scowl. "Accident."

"I…see," Piotr said unconvincingly. "Well, if you are to rest, I will leave you to it."

"No, Pete, I'm fine. I just…Jean was being…" But her words were trailing after the man as he'd ducked right out of the room. "Am I wrong or did he not even ask if I was okay?"

Remy decided that was a trap and didn't answer.

Anna sighed. "Yeah, okay. You are free to go too, Remy."

He thought about it. It'd be better for her if he did, considering what was playing out in Piotr's head but…..But it was Anna and she'd asked and she actually wanted to spend time with him so: "Naw, pop chock. We got a movie to watch and some restin' to see to. What'll it be?"

* * *

**A**nd just like that, it became a habit; once or twice a week Remy would join Anna in her room not unlike how it used to be. They'd settle on her bed, though there was no cuddling. He'd tug her curls. They'd eat popcorn and talk, watch a movie or two. She almost always fell asleep before the end of the second one. Remy would tuck her in and slip away.

Sometimes he'd bump into Colossus, apparently heading to her room. Neither man talked about it, not since that first night. What Pete said to Anna about it, or didn't, Remy didn't know. He and Rogue talked about a lot of things now, inconsequential as well as important. They talked about a lot of things but not ever did they talk about Anna's relationship with Pete.

But other people did. Kitty, for instance, asked Remy point blank if he and Anna were having an affair. He stared, expressionless and silent.

"What? You stay with her a couple nights a week."

"I don't stay, Kitty. We watch movies and talk. After, I go t'my room, alone, and she stays in her room. Sometimes not alone 'cause Piotr Rasputin—a.k.a. Colossus, Boyfriend—joins her." Remy ran a hand through his hair. "Anyone else thinkin' she's steppin' out on Pete?"

Kitty regarded him silently for a little while but eventually nodded. "There are…rumors. Speculation."

"Who?" When Kitty didn't answer, he asked again. "Who is speculatin', Shadowcat? Who is repeatin' rumours 'bout Anna Marie?"

"Too many for you to scare into acting appropriate," said pointedly. "Come on. You two teach a class together, you train together, and now you're hanging in her room late at night together." Her palm was up, heavy with the proof, apparently. "And you have history. Meanwhile," she lifted her other hand as if to pile her next set of words on the scale of her palm, weighing the balance of evidence, "she and Pete are almost never in the same room in public. He's always leaving as she's coming in. It all looks very suspicious."

"It ain't," Remy insisted. "You be sure to tell anyone who is talkin' out of turn that Anna Marie ain't a cheater and if I find out who they are, they ain't gonna be real happy with life for awhile."

Kitty sighed. "Sure. Okay. But, Remy." She waited until he lifted his eyebrow in question. "Be careful. I think she's serious about Pete and I don't want you to get hurt."

Remy leaned forward and brushed a kiss to her cheek, curled a hand around her shoulder as he leaned back. "Thanks, _'tite chatte_, but we so far past that, a warnin ain't really gonna help."

* * *

**Author's Note: **TWO YEARS. I've been writing this, and some of you have been reading this, for two years! I can't even believe that. Thank you for sticking it out. Thanks to all the new readers! And for all the reviews. We're winding down. Although, man, this is hard. Endings are HARD. About 6 or 7 chapters left unless I significantly rewrite the drafts I have. Thank you all for being AWESOME.


	62. Chapter 61: Assez

**Chapter 61: **Assez

**I**t wasn't entirely true that they were never in the same room together, but the times were few and far between. The first week of April, and yet another irritating snow fall, found Anna and Piotr in their usual room and Rogue, finally, ready to confess.

Curled against the big man, Rogue looked up at his strong profile. He was reading, his arm around her, fingertips idly rubbing her shoulder through the soft cotton of her shirt. It was a good moment, a nice solid feeling one. So, naturally, she interrupted it with: "Piotr, the sex is hot."

Blue eyes came up fast, color skimming his cheekbones. He looked at her, then looked swiftly around to see if anyone was there to overhear, then back to Rogue. "Anna, thank you?"

She couldn't resist laughing at his confusion furrowed brow and off-kilter smile. "The sex is hot and I'm going to miss it when I move to Scotland."

The smile disappeared. "I wondered when you'd tell me."

Anna jerked slightly. "You knew?"

"That it was offered to you? Yes." He nodded and, drawing his arm from around her, closed the book he held. Set it aside. "People asked me if I was going. If you were going."

"Oh, Piotr. I'm so sorry." Anna pressed a hand to his chest. "I just, I needed to know what I wanted t'do."

"And you do." He nodded, his expression resigned. "And you aren't asking me to go with you."

Here, she smiled, reached up to touch his cheek. "I could be. I just wanted to be sure I wanted to go before I talked to you. I know you've got your classes but it wouldn't be til June and, well, what do you think?"

Still not smiling back at her, Piotr caught her hand. He pressed her palm against his skin for a moment, then pulled her hand away from his face and held it in both of his. "Rogue, Anna."

It was all there in his tone, in the way he didn't quite meet her gaze. "Oh," she breathed the word as she understood what he couldn't seem to say after her name. "You, you don't want to go. You didn't want me to ask you to go."

"It isn't that I don't want to go."

"Just not with me."

"It's not that either, Anna." She stared at him in confusion, pain sparking sharp in her chest, while he continued to hold her hand in his. "Do you love me?"

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

Her fingers flexed involuntarily in his. "Pete, we haven't been together all that long. I—I don't not love you, I think I could. I think I will."

But the Russian was shaking his head, his blue eyes deep and sad and horrible to her. "That's not enough. For either of us, Anna." He took a deep breath and made his own confession: "I don't love you either."

It hurt, hearing that. It hurt because maybe she wasn't in love with him, not all the way, but it was there, small and fragile and hopeful. "Okay." Rogue peeled her hand back from his, dropped her feet to the ground. She stared at the dandelions on her socks. "Okay. Uh, well, I guess, I should go."

"When do you leave for Scotland?" He asked, stalling her exit.

"Well, um, probably after Kitty and Bobby's weddin'. I don't really know. I hadn't told Professor Xavier yet." Anna knew she was rambling and couldn't stop. "I wanted to talk to you first, I guess."

"You're movin' to Scotland?" Remy's voice surprised Anna into looking up and over her shoulder. He was there, in the doorway. She didn't know how much of the conversation he'd heard before that. Feeling tender, all her nerves exposed, she didn't want to challenge him on eavesdropping. She just nodded.

"And when were you gonna tell anyone?"

"I was tellin' Pete just now."

"I'm sure he appreciates the head's up."

Piotr rose. When he spoke his voice was a low and even warning. "What is between Anna and I is not of your concern."

Remy leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb, tucked his hands into his pockets. "Sounded like she ain't your concern at all anymore, Rasputin."

She wouldn't cry. She would not cry. She did grab Piotr's arm when he started around the couch, fury suddenly a live thing around him. "Piotr, no, stop." She came to her feet beside him, both of them facing Remy now but Anna's eyes only on Pete. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"It is not okay." When he looked down, his expression was closed. Unreadable. How often had it been like that lately? "Anna, I didn't mean for this…"

She laughed, husky and wry. "I know you didn't. That's all him." She jerked her head toward Remy, just in case there might have been confusion. "I'll be okay. You can go. I'll talk to him. It's fine." She saw his hand lift, as if to cup her face or stroke her hair, but Piotr dropped it without making contact. Nodded. As he left he gave what she could only imagine was a warning glare at the lanky Cajun standing just inside the door.

Dropping back onto the couch, Rogue said, without heat, "That was a real personal moment you just hijacked."

Remy shut the door, clicked the lock. "Seems that's the only way I get personal information from you, Anna," answered in that smug, lazy drawl of his as he walked deeper into the room.

Anna gave a snorting laugh, looked over her shoulder at him. "Are you entitled to personal information, Remy?"

"Aren't we tryin' to be friends?"

"Sure, sugar," said in a tone that was falsely indulgent. "But seein' as I hadn't told m'boyfriend yet I hadn't told anyone else either."

Remy rounded the couch, looked down at her with his expression impassive. "Why hadn't you told him?"

"That really ain't your business."

"Maybe no," he agreed reasonably, hands dipping into his pockets again, pulling his pants low on narrow hips. "But seems to me you got a habit of up and runnin' without tellin' your lovers you goin anywhere."

Anna Marie's head shot up. "Are you kiddin' me? You really wanna do _this_ now?"

"What? You broke it off with him, yeah? To move to Scotland?" Broad shoulders gave a shrug. "Wouldn't think you'd be too troubled by it since it's just one more time, no?"

The heat she hadn't been feeling, the heat crowded out by hurt, flared to life. "Mine and Pete's relationship is none of your business."

"Cept it parallels mine and yours so damn close. I was in love with you, too."

"What?" Disbelieving, reeling, Anna stood up and shoved a hand into his chest. "What?" It didn't budge him.

"You knew." Disdain colored the words in a way she all but never heard in the Louisiana drawl.

"Like hell I did!" With a sound of frustration, she slapped a hand through the air. "And too? Pete's not in love with me and I'm not in love with him, so I think it's fine."

Remy snorted, lifted a hand to rub over his chest. "Pete's lyin' to you. And what the hell do you mean you didn't know?"

"Wait. Why would he lie? How would you know?" Then she half-screamed in complete frustration. "And you never told me. How _could_ I have known?"

"I never…" Gambit snarled this time. "He'd lie to save his pride, Anna Marie. I know because it's like lookin' in a fuckin' mirror. And I told you I loved you."

Rogue shook her head, not believing what he said about Piotr. Things had been weird for weeks between them. She focused on what Remy said about himself instead. "Never, Remy. Never. Maybe since I came back you said somethin' but you've been so pissed it ain't like I thought you meant you'd loved me, really. I've only ever heard that in the past fucking tense.

"You never told me anything, not about how you felt, not about your life. You knew every inch of mine, every secret, every thing I was ashamed of. And you didn't tell me not the first thing about you."

"Cause I poured the damn details into your head!"

"That's not the same!" Shouted right back at him. "How could you think that's the same? I appreciated that trust, but you never wanted to talk to me about your past, never wanted to know my reaction to it, never wanted an exchange. Relationships are an exchange."

"Then let me be real clear, Anna." He stalked forward, his eyes deep and burning. He seemed to take up all the space; the world narrowed down to him and his rough voice as he confessed. "I loved you. You were home for me. And just like after I killed Julian, when you left I didn't have a home no more and I didn't have a say in it."

"Remy," his name was uttered in shock, surprise. Too soon for other emotions to seep through. Now toe-to-toe Rogue was forced to tip her head up, to meet that fierce glowing gaze.

Remy's voice came low, his breath warm against her lips as he said, "I fucked up the night we slept together. I shouldn't have touched you, not with all that bitter between us. Not with all this…it ain't just anger, _chère_, it's self-loathing. Just like I needed my _père_ an' my cousins more than any o' them needed me, I needed you more too.

"I wanted you more. I loved you more." His voice caught. "I stayed here for you. To fix things, much as I could, with you even if you were movin' on with Pete; even if you'd never love me again. And now you're movin' to Scotland."

"Remy," she said his name again, the two syllables all tangled up with confusion and frustration and the sting felt from the pain in his voice.

"Look, I know you don't have feelings for me anymore, not like I do for you."

"Like you do for me? Like you do for me _now?"_

He nodded. Just that, just nodded and broke her heart wide open with it.

"You don't know anything. And neither do I! You …I never really thought you loved, " her voice cracked, "And that night, after that night…"

He reached out, pulling her to him with a hand at her waist and one behind her head. "I meant every touch, Anna Marie. I didn't mean a damn word I said that came after."

They were still for a moment, him holding the whip-taut form of her. And then she snapped. They came together in a crush of lips and bodies, frenetic and desperate.

He sucked her lower lip between his. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth just as hot and insistent on his. Somehow, she got her hands in his shirt; she drug it up and over his head almost without breaking that kiss.

Remy had her pants unfastened, his hand shoving down them almost before the first time their mouths pulled apart to gasp for breath while they stared in shocked desire at each other.

Then he touched her. Hot and wet. Her body bucked, back arching and pressing her more firmly into his touch. Anna pulled him back to her, tracing kisses and quick bites along his jaw, to his ear. He shoved her shirt up and peeled the cups of her bra down. When he ducked his mouth to take a nipple into it, she pulled his hair and cried his name.

And then she jerked back so hard and so fast Remy nearly fell.

"_Arrete! Arrete_!"

Remy stopped, but caught her before she tumbled from the force of her pull away from him. "Anna, you okay? Did I hurt you?" He searched her face. Searched the wild hair, the kiss-swollen lips, down over her breasts and unbuttoned pants, then back to her color-spinning eyes. "Anna Marie? _Catin?_"

Hastily, Anna yanked her bra up and her shirt down, her own gaze skimming over the hard muscles she'd exposed when ripping off his shirt. "We cain't do this. I cain't do this."

"Rogue," his voice was a husky promise, "this won't be like last time."

She flinched, almost as if he'd slapped her. His stomach coiled and his hands tightened on her hips where they'd settled to steady her.

"I know. It's not that," she shook her head hard. "Pete broke up with me, Remy. Not the other way around. I asked him," she took a shaky breath, "I asked him to go to Scotland. This wouldn't be right. Not for you or me or him."

Remy dropped his hands and stepped back. "I see."

"You don't. Oh, God. How can you? I don't see. I don't….Damnit." Her voice cracked, again, emotion as vibrant as lightning breaking open the words.

The breath he drew in was audibly ragged. "So you don't love me anymore."

"I cain't tell what I feel anymore."

"I want you," said and it meant more, to him, than just the physical.

"I want you too. And I'm pissed at you." When his eyes widened she pointed at him. "And you're pissed at me. We cain't keep pretendin' otherwise. You hate that I hurt you; that I left you. And I hate that you pushed me away when I came back, didn't understand why I did what I did.

"And I cain't just jump you 'cause I'm hurt. That'll just hurt us both worse." She trembled and he stepped forward. She started to yank back, "Remy, don't." She wouldn't stop it again, stop herself from taking the comfort and the forgetfulness, from using the pleasure to burn away the confusion, however temporarily it lasted.

"Hush, Anna. I shouldn't have…today wasn't the day for this. Piotr broke up with you and you're hurt and I'm a coonass. C'mere." And then he folded her into his heat, into the familiar comfort of him, and she cried.

After she'd gone to bed, after he was alone in his room, Remy did too.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've been staring at a few of these drafts for a few weeks. I can no longer read them objectively. Also, I know ya'll have been wanting to see the end of RoCo or Panna? What is their portmanteau? Anyway, 3!


	63. Chapter 62: Jamais Vu

**Chapter 62: **Jamais Vu

**I**t was only a couple of days later when Rogue found Remy in the gym. He was working out hard and she wasn't dressed to be there. When she caught his eye, he wiped down his weights, snagged a water bottle, and met her in the hall.

"You okay?" asked quietly. They hadn't spoken since that night in the library, at least not about anything significant, not without an audience.

Rogue nodded, tried to curl her lips into a smile, but they fell as if that was just too much effort. "Um, I just left the professor. Moira asked if Jubilee and I could go ahead and come to Scotland. Get things started while she and the professor are workin' out the rest of the team."

A muscle jumped in his jaw to match the quick leap his heart took. "I didn't mean to run you off."

"You aren't. This ain't that." Anna tugged the sleeves of her sweater over her fingertips. "I, he said he asked you too and you wouldn't go."

"I promised to stay til June and teach."

"And after that?"

"I told him and the Doc I'd see."

Anna nodded slowly, considering before she said, "I don't want you to not come because I'm there."

Gambit smiled, soft and warm. He lifted a gloved hand and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, let the tips of his fingers linger there. "That's the opposite of what you bein' there makes me want to do."

"Good." Anna nodded, looked up at him with eyes that were mostly hers, mostly green and earnest. "I'm gonna work on forgivin' you and myself."

"So am I. And when I figure out that, I'm gonna ask you on a date, _ange._"

"I cain't promise I'll say yes."

"Dat's okay. You always did take some convincin'." He grinned, all dimpled and sexy; Anna remembered why women felt right flat at his feet. "Mind if I call you?"

"I'd be pissed if you didn't."

"Ah," he held a hand to his heart, "and a pissed off Anna Marie ain't none too friendly, this Cajun he know dat's true." She smiled, still curling the edges of her shirt around her fingertips. Remy reached for her hands, smoothed the shirt back and curled his fingers with hers in place of it. "When you leavin', _catin_?"

"Soon as possible. We'll be comin' back for weddin' stuff so we ain't worried about getting' everything packed up. We'll take a little every time til we come back for the weddin', I guess." Which wasn't exactly an answer. "Probably day after tomorrow."

"Dat's fast."

"I know. I came to tell you first and then, then I guess I should go tell Piotr."

"You want me to come too?"

"Naw. Don't think that'd help."

"A'right den."

There was a long pause then, Remy watching her and Anna Marie looking down at their linked hands. Eventually, she looked up, met his bright and too-knowing gaze. "Don't stay mad too long, okay?" Then she turned and darted off, moving fast in socks with little rocket ships taking off on them.

Pete, next, only nodded and wished her safe travels. It wasn't until after he left that emotion played on his face; had Rogue witnessed it, she might've been convinced he didn't actually want to end their relationship.

But, ultimately, Logan was the hardest to say goodbye to. Just before leaving, he held her in a hard hug then gave a brusque kiss to her cheek. "Listen, kid. I'm a phone call away. No matter what."

She kissed him back, quick and light, on the mouth. "Ditto, old man."

Looking into the bright sheen of rainbow shredded eyes, he said, "Hey, kid, there's no crying in baseball."

"Good thing we ain't playin', then," shot back with a spike of heat. Anna Marie scrubbed her eyes. "Damnit, Logan. I don't wanna go without you again. You saved my life, you've been my, my…"

Logan put a hand on the back of her head, guided her in so he could wrap around, hard and warm. He smelled of cigarillos and lemon, of safety and hope. He held on and so did she.

When she did pull back, Logan cupped her cheek and looked hard into those bright eyes. "You ain't never let me shake you, Marie, so don't think you're shakin' me."

His thumb stroked the high edge of her cheekbone and she leaned into it, leaned into his skin and the heat and the warmth without being afraid that she'd take too much from him. "You came with me when I left. You saved me. You've been-"

"Still am. And always will be, kid," interrupted in a voice low and gruff. He gave her one more kiss, this one pressing his lips to her forehead. Logan's eyes closed while he held her there but when he stepped back his mouth was half-curled. "Go on with you now. Time t'mutant up, kid. People are waitin'."

She carried the sent of him with her onto the plane, the lingering press of his lips to her forehead, his hands on her shoulders just before she turned away. Fell asleep, curled on the blackbird, with the hint of smoke and lemon.

At the end of the flight, though, there were familiar faces. Friends. People waiting and depending on her. And on Jubilee. The other woman bounced from the Blackbird and straight into Forge's, then Moira's, arms before demanding: "Where is he?"

Moira, smiling, answered. "He's prepared a surprise for you and wants that you meet him in the garage."

"Ooh. I hope it's a sexy surprise!" Unashamed, she winked at Rogue and tore off, not even attempting to collect her bags.

Rogue, in the heavy sweater she'd stolen from Gambit at Reelfoot Lake, rolled her eyes at Moira. "Guess she thinks I'll just get those to her room, then, yeah?"

Moira curled an arm around Rogue and squeezed. "Forge, can you manage Jubilee's things?"

"With a pack mule, perhaps."

Rogue snorted a laugh. "You know her well."

Forge laughed low and deep. "I know her packing tendencies well. Do you need help, Rogue?"

"I just got a couple of boxes and a duffel. I can make a couple of trips."

"I'll get them. We have some handcarts. See you for dinner?" He started toward the Blackbird, pulling a heavy-duty looking cart, just as Storm stepped out.

"Right then. Storm?" Moira called out, "Are you staying?"

"I cannot, but I'm sure I'll be seeing you all again soon." She looked then to Rogue. "Walk with me for just a moment?"

Slipping away from Moira, Rogue paced herself beside Storm as she put distance between them and the human.

Eventually, Storm's lyrical voice broke the silence. "We're going to miss you, but I think you know this." The weather witch looked over Rogue's profile and she thought how much she'd grown in the last years. How much she knew from all the minds she'd collected. But, still, she seemed so very young. "I'm not sure you know that forgiving yourself, and others, might be even more difficult than getting your mutation under control has been."

Surprised, and flushed with the personal allusion, Anna Marie stopped walking. "Remy told you about…about…"

Wearing an amused and gentle smile Ororo turned to face the younger woman. "Didn't you talk to your friends about it?"

Anna shook her head and offered, simply, "No."

Storm let the silence get big as she considered Anna's words, her surprise. "He has other friends, Rogue, a family in me, Katherine, and Cass. Bobby, too, I think, though he'd hate to admit it." She smiled, touched Rogue's shoulder. "You are not responsible for his happiness. Only your own. Be certain, Rogue, that if you do…pursue this with him it's what you want and not because you want to make him happy."

Speechless, Rogue only managed a nod. Ororo waited for more but, when Rogue continued looking away, guided them back to Moira.

* * *

**A**fter the Blackbird had lifted off for whatever Storm had next, Moira said, "Let's get you situated, Rogue." She thought the girl looked like she could use a bed and some tea. And a week of sleep. "Of course, that begs a question. I prepared two rooms. I didn't know if you'd want your old one."

"The one with a cage and video monitors?" Rogue asked dryly.

Moira sighed. "That mouth. You know, I've finally found out what Buffy is."

Rogue tipped her head back and laughed, long and loud, as they entered the main floor. She hooked an arm around the doc's waist and leaned her head on her shoulder. "Okay, so what are my options?"

"A brand new room," she squeezed Rogue back, "no video monitors. Or, and there's no one in the connected one," she was quick to explain, "your first room."

The Remy room. "Has a great view."

"So does the other."

"Nah, I want that one. My original one." She had a lot of good memories there after all.

By the time she'd gotten some food and some tea, at Moira's insistence, Jubilee and Shane were still MIA. Not thinking about "sexy surprises", Rogue took herself down the familiar path to her room. Inside, her boxes and bags waiting on her, she thought it looked different. She knew, of course, it hadn't. The proportions were the same, the view out over the rough water familiar. But it seemed as if it had been hollowed. Her gaze darted to the bathroom door. Well, with no explosive Cajun on just the other side it was little wonder it didn't feel like the place was vibrating with life.

Once she unpacked it would feel homey, if not quite the same, she was certain.

She replaced a few familiar things, like the photograph of her and Remy. She put it, as it had been, next to the bed. But T=there were othersnow: Her and Kitty and Bobby in the snow; Tabby and Jubilee throwing peace signs in front of the Eiffel Tower; even a selfie of her and Logan, his eyes gilded and a scowl on his face. She grinned every single time she looked at it. The camera itself, from that long ago birthday, was tucked in a cabinet along with the tripod and the lenses she'd added to it.

Her bedspread was a deep, bold green. The sheets butter yellow. In her closet hung she hung same yellow rain slicker she'd been gifted before her first trip across the Atlantic.

Once she was done, she changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. And then began the debate. To call Remy or to not call Remy. He probably wouldn't be in his room. Or have Skype up. It was still early back in New York. They'd always been finagling one schedule or another when he'd been in Ireland and she'd still been in school. But he'd called her, that first night.

Still debating herself she grabbed her laptop, settled it on top of a book on top of a pillow on her crossed legs and pulled up Skype. If she did it, just called, she wouldn't wonder what would have happened if she had. She'd know he wasn't around to answer.

But, then, there he was, his familiar face grinning at her from across the ocean. "Hey, pop chock. How was de flight?" Rogue watched as he pulled on a red tank and finger combed damp auburn hair. "Sorry, ange, jus' got out de shower after a Danger Room session," he apologized but there was something in his gaze, knowing and bright, or was it in his smile?

Rogue focused on the camera instead of the screen. "Fine. The flight was fine. Jubilee couldn't stop talkin' 'bout Shane. Then he whisked her away to I don't know where but she hasn't been seen or heard from since."

"Dat so?"

"That's so." She paused, dropped her gaze back to his face now that it was on screen and not his stomach and chest. The silence stretched between them, the sound of the ocean a lovely steady breaking in the background. "I just wanted to tell you I got here safe, we did, got here." She rolled her eyes at herself.

Remy smiled, wide and white and lazy. Magnetic even through the screen. "I'm glad you did."

Rogue nodded. But, with Storm's warning in her head, ouldn't think of anything else to say. She probably shouldn't have called. This was all probably premature. She hadn't give them time to forgive anything, hell, to even miss each other. She'd been gone for, what, 15 or 16 hours?

Remy, watching the play of emotions on her face, watching her multi-hued eyes broke in to the non-stop inner dialogue. "I was thinkin', Anna Marie, maybe it would be good if we kept getting' to know each other again. Like we started at the lake house.

Her gaze sharpened as she focused on the here and now, on him with his eyes unreadable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Remy nodded. His fingers itched to touch her cheek, to skim down the striped curls. "So how 'bout tomorrow night we have dinner together? Unless you got other plans?"

"I don't."

"Good." They smiled at one another through the screen, almost shyly; Anna felt something flutter in her chest, in her belly. Just as she was about to speak her bedroom door about flew off the hinges.

"OH MY GOD!" Jubilee stood in the door like a live wire. Pouncing on the bed, she twisted the screen around to face her and gave the camera a smacking kiss. "Hello, Gambit, you gorgeous piece of man meat!"

Laughing, Rogue peeled her back from the computer. "Well, someone liked her surprise, I guess."

Remy's chuckle carried warm and husky through the speakers. Jubilee winked at him, then focused on Rogue. "He bought us a house! Like, I have sixty days to say I don't want it and he'll get rid of it, but he bought us a house, Rogue! I'm never getting rid of it!"

Jubilee tackled Rogue to the bed in a hug and looked at Remy over her shoulder. "Unless you want to watch me ravish her, you better sign off." Then she smacked a hard kiss on Rogue's mouth. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming with me!"

"That ain't the way to get me to sign off, firecracker." Remy laughed low, not the least because what he could see of Rogue's face looked dazed. It wasn't too many people who volunteered to touch her skin, even with her new level of control.

Jubilee laughed, winked at him; then, she hung up on him. Helping right Rogue, her smile too impossible to quash, Jubilee continued, "But if you don't want us to live there right now because we came together, I totally get it and we won't move in." She flashed her left hand and Rogue saw something very shiny on it. "But probably after the wedding we'll kinda want to move there."

"Way to bury the lead!" Rogue shot forward, book and pillow and laptop sliding off her lap and onto the bed. She caught Jubilee's hand. "He proposed!"

"My mom is going to cry. Like, a lot. And we'll have to get married back in New York, but not til next spring 'cause this is Kitty's year and…are you mad at me?"

Rogue stopped admiring the ring to look at her friend in utter bewilderment. "What? Why?"

"I drug you here," Jubilee sort of moaned, "and now I'm getting married and you and Pete broke up because you came here."

"Piotr and I didn't break up 'cause I came here. We broke up because it wasn't right. And you didn't drag me here. And I don't hate you." Laughing, Rogue leaned forward to hug her, hard. "Kay, maybe I do a little 'cause you got a damn good guy, sweetie, but mostly I'm just really happy for you both and I love you both. And, oh, God, do I have to help with your weddin' too?"

Jubilee laughed. "Yes! Of course, Boom Boom is like, totally MOH, but you and Kit are definitely bridesmaids."

"Don't suppose your weddin' colors are gonna be brown and blue too, huh?" Rogue asked, thinking longingly of skipping awkward fittings and not buying another dress she'd never wear.

Jubilee shook her head, swinging that perfect fall of dark hair. "Think brighter. Think edgier. Think…."

"Fireworks?"

"Totes."

* * *

**W**ord traveled fast. Rogue had expected it around Muir Island, but hadn't expected a call from Tabitha that started with: "Please, God, tell me you aren't secretly engaged."

Rogue snorted and kept walking towards the gym. "I ain't secretly engaged. Or even datin'. No worries here."

"We've reached that age. Everyone is getting married. Next, they'll be having babies. We'll be godmothers. And going to baby showers and…"

"Tabby, you sound close to hysteria."

Across the line, and an ocean, the other woman took a deep breath. "It's just, you know, I thought we had a few more years before this shit started. I figured this was a late twenties deal and not an early twenties deal."

"Mutants do it different?"

Rogue blushed when Tabitha chortled. "Hell, yes, we do! Okay. I needed to hear that someone else wasn't contemplating wedding bells and home births."

Rogue stopped walking and held her phone out to peer at it. "Is someone pregnant? Did I miss somethin'?"

"No, no. No one is pregnant. But they will be. Soon. And they'll talk about being pregnant and stretch marks and water births." She sighed. "And I won't hear any more good sexploits. Except from you. You're single. In Europe. I expect _Lost Girl_ level shenanigans, Rogue."

When her heart restarted, Rogue picked up her pace. "Sure thing, Tab. I'll see about debauching the French Foreign Legion. Or letting them debauch me."

Either Tabby had a cat or she was purring at the thought. "Mmm. You'll need help. Call me in as backup, okay?"

Almost immediately after they hung up Rogue had another incoming call; she answered it without checking the who. "Hello?"

"It's me," sang a Southern baritone on the other end. "I was wondering if after all these years—"

Rogue's husky laugh cut him off. "What's up? I'm about to work out."

"Another engagement."

"That's what I hear."

"But one last night of passion with you before she—"

"Shut up!" Rogue laughed again. "Is that all you called for? To find out if Jubilee and I have naked pillow fights?"

"Naw, pop chock. I just wanted to hear you laugh. You have a good day now."

Rogue went into the gym smiling, a little glow of warmth heating familiarly inside of her. She chose not to examine it too closely, instead just enjoying the heady heat.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Jamais vu-means, literally, "never seen" but in psychology it is used to describe experiencing something familiar but feeling as if it is new and unfamiliar. I felt like it explained Rogue in Scotland but also Rogue and Remy as they try to navigate their relationship.

In other news, I'm trying to get things polished up and posted but spring is busy around here! Also, looking for a new apartment so if it takes a couple weeks for new chapters, just know I am working on them! As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for the comments. I'm so glad you enjoyed that very bizarre breakup and the not-quite-action.


	64. Chapter 63: Conversations

**Chapter 63:** Conversations

"**W**hat do you think you need from a relationship then?"

Remy scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed to shave. And that wasn't why he was sitting in this damn therapy session. "I need someone who makes decisions with me not for me. I need someone I can be vulnerable with."

"So someone you can trust."

"Yeah."

"And do you need them to trust you?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

"Do ya'll have naked pillow fights? I assumed that's a myth, but, hey, people thought mutants were too, no?" Remy stretched out on his bed in New York, picked up the thread of conversation as if it hadn't been two days

Rogue tugged her blanket up higher on her shoulders and looked directly into the camera. "Do you have naked pillow fights with your friends?"

"Male or female?"

Rogue snorted. "I'm just gonna change the subject right now. How's class goin'?"

"The students miss ya."

"I miss them."

There was a slightly too long pause, a very un-Remyish hesitancy before he said, "They ain't the only ones miss havin' you here."

* * *

"**I** know she loved me."

"Your Tante?"

"Yeah."

"But you aren't sure anyone else ever has."

"Of course other people have."

There was a long, long silence before he gave in and spoke again: "Rogue did."

"Did. Not does. You say both in the past tense."

"I'm sure Tante Mattie still loves me. I jus' don't have her in my life no more."

"And Rogue?"

"I don' know how she feels now."

"And how do you feel about her?"

He was silent again, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"I love her."

"And?"

"Sometimes I'm pissed as hell at her."

"Do you trust her?"

"With my life."

"And with your emotions?"

"Maybe."

"Tell me somethin' about you I don't know."

Remy was quiet for a long time and then: "I was adopted 'cause I was a mutant. My eyes gave it away. Like dis from birth." Remy spoke softly, the dark in both New York and Scotland wrapped around them, making the trans-Atlantic conversation somehow more intimate.

"Remy, I didn't…I figured that's why your birth parents gave you up, but I had no idea that's why you were adopted."

She looked so sad, her eyes shadowed and her brow puckered. "It ain't nothin' to feel sorry for me about."

"For the kid who figured it out, I feel sorry. For the kid who thought maybe his daddy didn't love him so much as want to use him, I sure as hell do feel sorry. There ain't shame in someone feelin' bad because you got a raw deal." She reached out and touched his face on the screen. He knew that's what she was doing, though to him her hand just disappeared. "And then you got exiled and that made it all worse."

"There was a lot between one and the other too, pop chock, that didn't help so much." One shoulder hitched in a shrug. "'Sides, it wasn't so bad. My _père,_ he cared. I got family and friends out of the deal. Got my brother and Tante Mattie."

"You ever talk to either of 'em?"

"I get information."

"But no word to them?"

"That was the deal, _ange._"

He couldn't use his mutation to pick up empathy this far from someone. However his empathy worked, it didn't work through phone lines or computer screens. But he could see it all over her: Pain for him, wheels turning to think how to remedy his situation. So he said, a little more harshly than he intended, "_Is_ the deal, Anna. That is the deal. No contact."

Her gaze sharpened again, came back to the now. She nodded. "I gotcha, sug. Hate it, though. My family don't want no contact with me and yours cain't have any even though they want to."

"Well, now, that's just speculation anyway."

"I've seen your memories," said soft and sure. "And maybe they took you in for the wrong reasons, but I've watched them with you, watched them as you and they love you, Remy. Just you."

Dieu, she hit on things he tried most days not t'think about at all. "You watched them as me. Could just be what I hoped they felt."

Rogue shook her head, not believing that for a minute.

* * *

"**W**hat someone says or does is about them, not you. Do you believe that?"

"I guess. Yeah."

"So, when Rogue left, who was that about?"

"I feel like it was about me not bein' good enough for her but, I guess, I guess it was just about what she was goin' through and her leavin' me behind wasn't 'cause I wasn't good enough it was 'cause of what she felt about herself, about her not bein' good enough, worth enough to wait for." He sighed. "Fuck. Fuck me."

* * *

"**W**hy the cabin?"

"That don't speak for itself? It's beautiful, no?"

Anna Marie smiled, wished she could see his face and not just hear his voice. Still, it was nice to talk to him in the middle of the day when they were both wide-awake. Nice to stand in the sunshine and listen to the lyric of it. "Yes," she laughed low. "Of course it is. But what prompted you to buy it?"

"Anna." There was nothing teasing in his tone now. "I needed….The mansion, it's been a base for me for years now. Somewhere I always felt like I had friends, somewhere I felt like I'd always be welcomed."

She didn't interrupt, but apprehension knotted in her belly.

"After you…After you had t'go to Scotland, after they told me to stop tryin' to contact you, I didn't feel much like seein' Charles or Ro. Like goin' back to the place where I'd met you. Lost you."

"Remy, I'm so sorry."

"No. That ain't why I'm tellin' you." He sighed over the line. She imagined him running his hand through his hair, then scrubbing his jaw, buying time. "I hoped it'd be a good place for you, later, when you came back to me. Even if you…even if it stayed bad, that it could be a good place; it's kinda secluded. Peaceful."

Her heart felt like it had a thin sheeting of electricity over it. Felt like it shivered in the cage of her ribs. "Remy."

"I planned to win you back, to make a life with you. No matter what. And then you came home and I…"

"I hurt you."

"You did." And then: "And I hurt you."

They breathed together, emotions ragged on either end of the connection.

"I'm sorry."


	65. Chapter 64: By the Time

**Chapter 64: **By the Time

**T**he late night conversations with Rogue, as well as the therapy, were leavening. For the first time, perhaps in his life, Remy knew he didn't have to entertain the person he was in conversation with. When the conversation went heavy, Rogue would go still and listen as if he was the center of her world. She listened, he found, with her entire body. When he'd asked about it she'd blushed before explaining that she found out so many secrets through people's skin that it felt rare, and somehow precious, to have someone choose to share emotions and secrets, to choose her to share them with.

And when he chose to tease her, to flirt, to make light of her struggles with her new students on Muir Island, it was because he liked their banter, particularly liked her laughter and the way it fizzed inside him like ginger ale in cake batter.

Gambit didn't, necessarily, _like_ his therapy. But he recognized it for what it was: something he needed. And not just because of Rogue. In fact, he thought if he'd faced the trouble inside of him long ago, he might not have ended up so far from the woman he loved for so damn long. So he kept going. Kept doing the homework. Kept telling the truth even when all he wanted was to smile and lie and forget the whole damn thing.

By the time it was June, by the time the wedding was here, he wasn't done. Not nearly. And he knew what he needed to tell Anna Marie.

But knowing and having the opportunity were two real separate things, he found. She came. She got swept away. And he spent a frustrating week of catching her eye or tugging her hair in passing, sitting next to her at dinner with the smell of apples so faint he thought he was conjuring it amid other perfumes and colognes.

Remy wanted to tell her he'd been going to therapy and that he intended to keep going. He wanted to ask her on a real date. Wanted to pick her up at her door and go out to dinner, wanted to kiss her good night and struggle to wait til mornin' to talk to her again. He wanted to know if she'd forgiven him.

"Trouble, my friend?" Ororo's voice broke his concentration and Remy's eyes flashed up. "You've been staring for awhile at that urn."

"That urn pure pisses me off."

'Ro laughed, as he'd intended, and settled next to him on the couch where he'd been trying to think his way out of his current predicament. "I can see that. Would you care to tell me why?"

Sitting back with a sigh, he sank deep into the couch, rested his head on the back of it and piled linked hands on his flat belly. "Cause I can get it alone in a room but it ain't got not a damn thing to say."

Ro smiled again, looking up to the urn. "What would you want it to say?"

"That it forgives me." Simple as that.

"You want the urn to forgive you?"

He rolled his head to give her a long look from those hellfire eyes. "I want the girl we really talkin' 'bout to forgive me."

"Have you told her this?"

"Unless she's secretly that damn urn, I ain't been alone with her since she got here. She's off with Kit and Tabby pickin' Jubs up from the airport now and then they're off to some kinda trouble. Weddin's tomorrow. And then—"

"And then?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw; he looked back at the urn rather than the soft understanding in Ororo's. "She goes back to Scotland."

"You too can go to Scotland."

"Not if she don't want me there."

"So you'll speak to her."

Remy wanted to yell, instead he just closed his eyes. "Yeah, maybe I'll make it part of my weddin' toast."

Surprisingly, when he came downstairs to start cookin' the beignets for the Big Ass Breakfast—Rogue's term on his Schedule of Events-the woman in question was already there, looking a little bleary eyed and holding onto a cup of what he guessed was coffee like it was a life raft and a crystal ball in one.

Grabbing the top of the door frame, he stretched and smiled before interrupting her daze with a, "Well, hey there, _catin._ "

Anna Marie blinked several times before looking at him, then her mercurial gaze slid down his body. He was wearing a tank and sweats that hung low. She lingered until he cleared his throat. "I ain't jus' a piece a meat."

But Rogue just took her sweet time looking back to his face. "Sugar, you stand like that 'cause you know it drops those pants and raises your tank and all a woman can think about is how in the hell ya'll get those sexy Vs and just where they're leadin'."

Laughing, and not denying it, he dropped his arms and crossed to her. Reaching around her he snagged a cup, then poured himself some coffee. "Why you up so early, Anna Marie? I'm startin' breakfast."

She snorted. "You startin' beignets. But we also need eggs and sausage and bacon and biscuits and gravy and fruit. And did you see the line-up of events? It's gonna be a long ass day. Breakfast at nine and then God help me."

Hip leaned against the counter Remy set his mug down while skimming Anna's thick and curling hair back from her cheek. "You got a plan. You got a team. It's gonna be okay."

"Jubilee took over Kitty's mother last night. She keeps tearin' up. The mom, not Jubs. But I don't know what we're gonna do about Bobby's parents. They'll be here around four." She knew she was babbling, hyper focused on All the Things because 1) it was a lot to deal with and because 2) she was alone with Remy while 3) not with enough time or privacy to find out what he'd been doing, really, all these months apart or if he wanted…if he'd moved past…."So, I really gotta get movin'."

Remy, his laugh at her more a low rumble, tipped his forehead into Rogue's and held her gaze with his. When her breath caught and she stopped talking, he cupped the back of her head, felt all that silky hair under the fingers not gloved. "I promise you it's gonna be okay. Whatever happens, as long as Kitty and Bobby end up married at the end of the day, the rest ain't gonna matter. Anything goes wrong it'll turn into a funny story. Now, you jus' take a few real deep breaths." He breathed with her, in and out, in and out, then kissed her forehead and stepped back. "Let's get cookin'."

He wasn't wrong. And he was always, somehow, there. In the kitchen they moved together and around each other easily. As the day progressed, just when Rogue thought she was going to strangle a vendor for bein' late Remy's arm would slide around her waist and he'd say something like, "Can I take this off your plate, Anna Marie? Me, I'm bored since I sent the groom and the other groomsman off to golf. Golfin'. Who wants to golf on their weddin' day? Or ever?"

And, damn it, even after the ceremony she couldn't catch a break. They made eye contact across the room or he rescued her from someone's handsy handsing. They danced in close proximity but not with each other. He helped her keep events like father-daughter dances and helped her arrange a mother-son one when Bobby's parents decided to stay for the reception.

* * *

**I**t was very nearly the last dance before the couple left—and Anna had to get everyone ready for that, with sparklers lit and the photographer positioned-when a hand settled warm on her waist. Turning, Rogue smiled up at Remy but her eyes were worried. "Somethin' wrong? The limo break down? The limousine driver get drunk?"

Remy's own face was serious as he shook his head, "Naw, chère. It's just time you and me we danced, that's all." Not taking no for answer, he slid his arm around her and deftly maneuvered them onto the floor.

With just the hint of a smile, and her eyes narrowed in mock anger, Rogue lifted an arm to his shoulder and placed her right hand in his. "I got stuff t'do. Gotta get everyone lined up for the big exit."

"After this dance I'll help ya. But I ain't seen you slow down all night. Did you even eat?"

She started to say yes when it struck her: "No, no I don't think I've eaten since those beignets you forced me to 'taste test' this mornin'."

Remy gave a long sigh. "You gotta take care of you, Anna Marie. Now, has anyone told you you look beautiful?"

She tapped his shoulder with her manicured nails, blue with brown filigree. "Yes. Quite a few people have mentioned it. And not a few were disconcerted by the fact that it seems to bring out the blue in my eyes seein' as how there's also brown and green and gold and little slivers of red." She turned her head to look around at the slow dancing, at the warm glow of light and the fairy touch of Bobby's iced art. "Hydrangeas and Ice Castle. You wouldn't think it would be quite this magic."

Remy looked around too, at the swirls and lace work of ice, at the sculpted chairs and tables with the spears of vases filled with hydrangea. "They did a good job, those two, picking each other, so it makes sense they'd do an okay job puttin' their ideas together."

The ruffles on her long skirt brushed Remy's legs as they turned. His thumb smoothed over her skin where his hand rested half on the bodice of her gown, sleek at the top and then falling in a cascade of ruffles from her waist to the floor. Her hair was up, mostly, messy and elegant at once, little blue and brown blooms tucked all over the white-shot curls. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and he wanted to kiss her or to sneak away with her. Just to fucking hold her. "Anna, I need to tell you-"

"May I cut in?" Piotr's voice broke the spell Remy'd managed to weave and Anna stiffened. Pete had avoided her all this time, used people or work as a buffer. She looked from him to Remy and couldn't help but wonder at the Russian's timing.

Remy's hand tightened on hers but after a look into her bewildered face, he nodded. "I'll start on those sparklers, Rogue." He leaned in, unable to resist any longer, and skimmed his lips along her cheek then whispered, warm breath fanning the shell of her ear, "I haven't told you yet but I don't think I've ever seen anyone or anything more breathtaking than you are right now."

He didn't look back. That was all she could think as Remy wound his way off the dance floor. She watched him but he didn't look back. When Piotr touched her, she flinched, then apologized. "Sorry, Piotr. Sorry. Yes, let's dance."

He held her the same as Remy had and yet it was utterly different. "I needed to apologize."

Rogue's eyes switched from side to side at the other dancers, then back to Piotr. "Right now?"

"I have been avoiding you."

The edge of her mouth curled. "I noticed."

"I brought a date."

"I noticed that too, honey." She squeezed his hand as color brushed his cheeks. "It's okay, Piotr. You don't owe me anything. I'm hopin' one day things ain't so awkward, but til ya get there you gotta know I'm not angry. I miss you. I'll be here when you're ready to be friends again."

"And by here you mean figuratively as you'll be in Scotland with Remy."

Her heart did something strange and probably not medically sound in her chest. "I'll be in Scotland, sure. But Remy and I aren't…we're not…"

"You should." The song ended and the DJ was suggesting everyone move outside. Piotr stepped back. "You should, Rogue."

Only after he'd walked away did she say to herself, "New York is the weirdest damn place."

Even weirder when Kitty and Bobby hugged her tight, each kissing her firmly on the cheek, no fear, before tumbling into their limo all starry-eyed and tangled together.

* * *

**I**t was nearly midnight before Remy caught up with her again. Guests were not leaving and he had a feeling this party was going to last until the wee hours. Catching her by the waist, he pulled her back and swayed to the music playing. "May I have this dance?"

Rogue laughed and leaned her head back on his shoulder. "I can barely walk 'cause my feet have gone numb in these heels. Why ain't anyone leavin'?"

"You throw a good shindig, _chère_. It's a compliment."

She groaned. "I jus' want to take these shoes off and lie down in the grass."

Remy, grinning, swung around and knelt in front of her. Curious eyes shot their direction as he lifted her foot and slid her shoe free. He pressed his thumb into her arch and heard, despite the music, the low moan. Setting one foot down he did the same to the other, then stood up again, tucking her high heels into the pockets of the coat he still wore.

Rogue, smiling, lifted a hand to his bow tie and undid it as well as a button or two on his shirt. "I refuse to be the only disheveled one in the photos." Without another word, just that grin that always made her toes curl, he led her onto the parquet dance floor under the strung lights and the nearly see-through silk tent.


	66. Chapter 65: Once More With Feeling

**Chapter 65: **Once More With Feeling

**"I** cannot believe you're sleeping alone."

Rogue snagged a pillow and yanked it over her head. "Go away."

"If you weren't alone, I would." Tabby bounced on Rogue's bed. "I'm severely disappointed. No European Sex Shenanigans and now you aren't even taking advantage of that very delicious piece of Cajun just down the hall. Even after that dance last night."

Rogue turned around and swatted Tab with her pillow. Tabby, grinning and wide-awake so with better reflexes, simply caught it and flopped down on top of it. "Well, what is your excuse?"

"I hate your face."

"Mm. That's unfortunate. It's a beautiful face." She paused to admire it in the mirror across the room. Then, she settled a too-serious look on Rogue. "You leave early tomorrow, right?"

"Yes."

"So, what's your play?"

"My…There's not any…This ain't a game and it ain't like if I go back to Scotland we'll never see each other again."

Except, she couldn't stop thinking about that. Couldn't stop thinking about those dances last night before she had to go marshal the cleanup. About how she'd thought about going to his room but she was so tired she'd simply stripped off her dress and fallen into bed.

Forcing herself to get it together, Anna Marie showered and dressed, packed so it was taken care of, and then went hunting caffeine. But before she ever got to the kitchen one of her former students stopped her and needed to talk. An hour later, finally getting breakfast, Remy walked in the door. She started to say hello, to be casual. He hadn't approached her. He said he'd ask her on a date when, if, he was every ready. And he hadn't asked. Just as she started to speak, Tabby popped her head in. "Professor's getting some reports. Might need us. Don't plan on takin' off tomorrow."

Rogue looked up. "Hm. What?"

"Just chatter. But he wanted to let you know he might need you." She stopped, her gaze sliding from Remy, quietly putting coffee in a cup, to Rogue, standing with her eyes wide and a sort of stupefied look on her face. "Hm. You know what. Why don't I see if Jubs can go check it out with me tonight. And, if we need you all we'll be in touch."

"No. If the professor wants me," Rogue started.

But Tabby flashed her a fierce smile, all teeth, and gave a hard shake of her head. "You have another mission."

When Rogue didn't respond, Remy asked, "An' what's that?"

"Oh, she knows."

When Tabby left, Remy lifted a brow, waiting. It was here. The opportunity. To ask if he...if there was a chance, if now….But she couldn't ask. She dropped her dishes in the sink. "I gott a lot of packin' to do. I should…Yup. See ya. Later. Around. Or not. Bye."

She hid in her room for the rest of day. There was nothing to pack. There was nothing to do. And still she didn't come out, not for lunch and not for dinner.

When a knock sounded on her door around ten p.m. Rogue mussed her hair and picked up a tape-gun before answering. With a fake smile of triumph on her face she swung the door open while saying, jauntily, "I just finished!" Then immediately collapsed. "Oh, it's you."

Jubilee gave her a look. "Harsh. And I thought you finished yesterday. Except for your clothes."

Rogue snagged her friend's arm, tugging her in while skimming her eyes up and down the hall. "I…did. It doesn't." After she shut the door, she shook her head. She was not confessing her cowardice. "What's up? Everything okay?"

"Turned out it was nothing. Except, I'm getting the vibe that there's more than rumblings here." Jubilee pivoted. "Why are you weird?'

"I ain't."

"Rogue, honey," Jubilee laughed. "You are the weirdest person I know. I love you for it. Really. But the weird factor is super up right now."

Rogue started to protest and then blurted: "I avoided Remy all day."

Jubilee sighed, then sank right down with the air onto Rogue's bed. "Tell me all about it, honey."

And, after, jumped right up again. "This is asinine."

"Excuse me?"

"Seriously. You were at a wedding. You danced under the stars, with ice flowers everywhere. He was your hero the entire day. You haven't been alone with him in a week. In months!" Jubilee pointed imperiously at the door. "Go to him. Right now. Go."

"It's the middle of the night! He'll think I want, I want…"

"Don't you want?" Jubs gave an eyebrow waggle.

Rogue's cheeks went up in flames and Jubilee chortled. But eventually she settled down and touched a hand to Rogue's arm. "What are the two of you waiting for? If you go back to Scotland and he stays here, are you sure you aren't just going to drift apart? Too afraid to do anything about it because it got hard and messy before? You're a freakin' X-Man, Rogue. You can blast people with lazer eyes and suck the truth from their skin. Be the badass." She leaned in and kissed her friend's cheek. Another fearless touch. "I believe in you."

* * *

**I**n the morning, before courage could desert her, Anna found Remy and said, without preamble, "Think we could go for a ride?"

His black and red eyes glowed. "Sure. Meet you in the garage in ten?"

When he arrived, Rogue was already helmeted and seated, her small hands braced on the handlebars. "Guess you're drivin'?"

"Sure am, sugar."

Remy grinned, then climbed on behind her, hugging her hips with his body, strong arms coiling around her lithe waist. "Guess I'd better hold on, then." Rogue's laughter drifted back to him as she lifted up, bounced hard to kickstart the sleek motorcycle, then took off. It was a new experience, riding behind Rogue, all supple strength and apple scented. For a little while, Remy just enjoyed the feel of her muscles bunching and loosening as she took turns and he leaned with her.

After awhile, he realized they were taking a familiar road. By the time she pulled off and they were dismounting, dropping their helmets on the bike, apprehension curled inside him. When she didn't take his hand or speak to him, just kept walking to the clearing where he'd first won her over, first convinced her they'd be better as friends than enemies, he opened up to see what she was feeling and came up against a wall. She was deliberately and skillfully blocking him out.

Chagrined, the Cajun went after her and found her standing, looking out over the green trees, all vibrant color and a shimmer of heat in the air.

"Last time we were here, you didn't say sorry. So I'm not gonna either."

Remy tucked his hands in his pockets, staring at the delicate profile. "Okay, _catin_."

"I've still got a long way t'go to figure out…to get my mutation under control, if I ever do. I cain't traipse off under cover. I may never be able to have kids and I'll probably never just be me, Anna Marie D'Ancanto of Meridian Mississippi. I'll always be Rogue with a little Wolverine and Kitty, Storm, Magneto and Piotr and whoever I bumped into on the subway. I might know Tagalog next week and forget half-the-French you've given me for a few days or smoke cigars. I might turn to vapor or catch our couch on fire," at the our something in him perked and she turned lightly, "but I want it to be our couch." She sounded kind of miserable about it. "I want you to be the one I'm smokin' a cigar with. Turns out, Cajun, I'm in love with you. All the way. And havin' a little bit of you in my head just isn't enough when I got all of you in my heart." Her hand swung up. "I know that's cheesy. I know it, but, damnit, it is all your fault anyway."

She poked his chest, hard. "You chased me. You came into the gym that day all swagger and sexy and tried to touch me and then you just never stopped. So, you owe me. You made me think I could sleep all night with someone and kiss 'em and love 'em and have them love me back, whatever the hell version of me I might be at any given moment so if you're thinkin' to get out of this, you just think again you lousy, good for nothin' Swamp Rat." She was breathless, chest heaving, hands fisted on her hips, and eyes flashing by the time she finished.

"Rogue." Remy stepped forward, peeling one glove down to reveal his wrist. He had a look on his face she couldn't read so she scowled harder.

There was the usual leather cord wrapped around his strong wrist. But as he twisted it, spreading the layers of thin cord, she saw the gleam of a heart, a jagged half-heart that is. "I'm okay with cheesy, chère. And I'm happy to take the blame for you wantin' any kind of happily ever after.

"I was half-in-love with you the last time we were up here and didn't think you'd believe me if I told you that. I think you'll believe me now: I love you. Forever. For always. No matter if you smoke cigars and growl— the growlin's kinda sexy—or if you speak Russian and sometimes disappear through walls. Or yell at me ever time you tell me you love me just so long as you keep sayin' it."

"You were supposed to ask me on a date."

Remy laughed, long and loud, and grabbed her hips. "You sorta jumped ahead a few steps. I was plannin' on a date, on several dates. On makin' out on the porch and coppin' a feel in a movie, but there you go, just full speed ahead. You got a habit of doin' that."

The thing that trembled in her chest seemed to settle, seemed to glow. That scowl turned into a slow and brilliant smile. "This is it, for real, then, Cajun. No breaks. No runnin'. When it gets sticky we stay in the muck til we get out together. No one else. Well, you know, except for the other elses inhabitin' my body 'cause I don't think I'm getting' rid of them any-"

Remy stopped her with a kiss, his hand at the small of her back and drawing her up and into his body. When they pulled apart, just enough to speak, he said, "I kinda figured you'd cry when we got around to this."

Anna Marie snorted. "No you didn't."

Remy laughed and nipped at her lush lower lip. "No, I didn't. I do expect a diary entry. A really good one, _chère_. And have you written any about us havin' sex? 'Cause I think I deserve t'read those too."

Anna was laughing, wrapping her arms over his broad shoulders and laughing. "No, Cajun, you don't get t'read 'em. Mmm, but I sure do enjoy writin' 'em. In case I forget one day."

"I won't ever let you forget, Anna Marie. And no matter what, I won't let you send me again either."

"I won't send you away again. Not _me_." They both knew what that meant. "You won't regret this, Cajun?"

"Naw. And I'm gonna make you wonder why it took you so long."

Anna lifted her hands, gloved to match Gambit's own, and framed his face. He was so damn beautiful. And hers. So damn hers. "I already do."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, that's it! They made it! I don't know if this was the end as I was expecting it or you were expecting it but...well, it's here. Thank you all so incredibly much for all the notes and encouragement. And love.

Also, there may be a epilogue in the offing.


	67. Epilogue

**Epilogue: **_Three Months Later..._

"**A**n EMP?"

Forge nodded, lifting the small device. "It's small. Keep it on ya; it'll take out any electronics in about a ten-foot radius."

Rogue's smile flashed. "We got a defense."

"Sure. But you can't arm the islanders with it."

Her smile all but melted. "How'd you know—" Forge gave the Southerner a look. Okay, they were close. He knew her. It was weird, having all these people that understood her, didn't fear her skin or bat a lash (or not many lashes) when she channeled one of the many minds sharing her brain space. "So, why not?"

"If they accidentally flip the switch, then no more car, television, phone."

"Oh. Right."

Jubilee shrugged. "Hey, X-Men Only is still better than nothin'. We have a defense that's more than the advice: Don't get collared.

"Forge, if I were not engaged to the hottest man alive—second hottest because Taye Diggs—then I'd kiss that gorgeous mouth of yours."

Forge gave a low laugh. "Shane's a lucky man, Jubilee."

"Sooo, who else knows?" Rogue asked, turning the small black circle in her hand.

Forge gave the rainbow eyed vixen a bland look. "Remy helped develop it and he's facility security, of course he knows."

Rogue's cheeks went hot. "It was only going to be a prank. A tiny one. Miniscule."

Forge held his wide-palmed hand out and waited until she'd placed the small device there. "We'll have a training then I'll see if I can trust you." Turning back to his work station, dismissing the pair behind him, he was grinning.

And Rogue was laughing as she left his workspace. Still laughing when she was caught around the waist and someone nuzzled her neck.

Jubilee, smiling bright as her fireworks, said, "I'll leave you to it. I'm going to go distract my very conscientious fiancé."

As she sashayed off, Rogue turned in Remy's arms. "She really likes to say fiancé. Like, every third sentence has to have it in there. We could make a drinkin' game."

Remy looped his arms around her, settled his hands at the small of her back. "Ain't fair none, you wid dat healin' factor."

"You got one too, Cajun," reminded and accompanied by a sassy lift of an eyebrow.

"Not as good a model as yours."

Rogue gasped, leaned back. "So you admit Logan's better at somethin' than you? I gotta call him." She turned to break the hold, apparently eager to make the Wolverine laugh; Remy made a low rumble in his throat and pulled her back. "What? You jus' said it."

"And if you ever tell him I'm'a deny it."

Rogue rolled her eyes, currently a luminous green with rings of gold firing to red. "Like he'd believe you."

"Then I guess I jus' have t'stop you."

At that, she laughed. Hard. "Sure. An' how you plannin' to do that, Swamp Rat?"

Remy leaned in close and murmured in her ear. "I was thinkin' about tyin' you to the bed with some silk scarves, since we don't need them so much for other things anymore."

Rogue was no longer laughing. She rubbed her cheek against Gambit's, looped her arms over his neck. "Remy," her voice was breathy. She could feel his smile as his mouth skimmed along her neck. He pulled her hips in towards his; that made it hard to think but still: "I can think of a half-dozen ways I could get out of that. Still tellin'." Then, she ran.

He followed, chasing her right past Jubilee and a dazzled looking Shane. Rogue opted for the stairs, dashing down them two at a time but Remy seemed to only need to touch every third or fourth stair and caught her just as she banged through the door to their floor.

But he didn't exact retribution there. He tossed her over his shoulder and marched with the gasp-laughing Mississippian to their rooms. He bypassed his old room, now their sitting room and one that wasn't un-fun for shenanigans, and headed straight for their shared bedroom. He locked the door and tossed his lush and wriggling heap on the bed.

"Now what?"

"Now I distract you."

And he did, with his rich, southern voice and his quick, hungry hands. He skimmed her hair back and said, "When you laugh, Anna Marie, everything in my world is bright. _Bon Dieu_ but I love you.

"Remy," she managed on a breath, inarticulate in the face of such profound emotion. But he knew that her heart was his, that she stumbled with words when it meant the most and that he, without question, meant the most.

So he smiled, a slow curve of his lips, and drew closer with every ragged breath she took until their mouths were barely a breath apart. _"J'etends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde." _

"Is that a good thing or a bad one?" asked with a laugh that trembled, as she did, poised between the lean line of his body cantilevered over hers and the soft bed behind her

"The perfect thing, catin." Gambit cupped the back of her head with one hand, the other following the taut line of the arm supporting her weight until his fingers tangled with hers on the mattress. "Your voice is like a siren song and a benediction and it's the call that leads me home, Anna Marie, because you're my home. My best friend. My lover. My love."

When their mouths touched it wasn't just heat, although that was a conflagration; it was a promise, a promise to keep being home, to fight for that, for each other. He followed her down to the bed, bodies sliding together with fluid familiarity.

Remy gave a ragged moan as her legs opened, as he settled between them. "_Catin_."

Rogue laughed, sultry and sure. Her fingers peeled his shirt up and they both peeled it away so her hands, half-covered in supple leather, could roam taut muscle and sensitive golden skin. "I thought you were gonna teach me a lesson, Cajun."

His hips rolled as wicked as the look he gave her. Rogue gasped sharply before her body went supple, arching into his, seeking more. "Don' you worry, _chère_, I got lots to teach you, but that don't mean I cain't tell you I love you while I do."

"How 'bout you jus' show me?"

Remy's fingertips hesitated at the bottom of Rogue's shirt, his fingertips tantalizingly close to the skin beneath but not touching. Even when she writhed. "How 'bout you have some patience, _mon ange_?"

"Remy," her voice strained as she did, no longer playful because his hips were moving against her, rolling and pressing.

Remy kissed the side of her neck, drug his nose along flushed skin, taking in the hot apple spice of her. His breath washed the shell of Rogue's ear as he whispered, "I had you this mornin',_ catin_, all warm and wet from the shower. You cried my name. That not enough for you? The way I licked you until you pulled my hair and screamed?"

The memory sharpened desire. She tipped her head, offering her neck for his exploring mouth, but gripped his hips hard as he continued that slow grind. "Remy, damnit, I cain't never get enough. Would you please," but her voice broke. He bit her ear and worked his hips and Anna Marie fell apart without having had not one article of clothing removed.

Dazed, Anna felt dazed, when she came back down. It could have been minutes or hours later but Remy was there, above and around her, solid. His eyes were fire-bright and for a moment she couldn't breathe. He was beautiful and fierce. And hers. In this very room she'd wished for just this and thought she couldn't have it. Now, now he pressed a kiss to her forehead, skimmed his lips along each temple, her cheeks, chin and then the tip of her nose.

"Remy," sighed so quietly she wasn't sure it was audible.

"Mm. I love puttin' that look on your face, Anna Marie, hearin' the way your voice gets husky." The way it seemed to shatter on his name. "Love how you're all pink from pleasure and," he drew a finger over her cheek, "I can still see you blush 'cause I'm talkin' about it."

Turning her face, Anna nipped his finger. "Remy. Damn it. I want more."

"You sure are insatiable," he teased.

But she surprised him, turning eyes deep-forest green up to him and said, in a voice as serious and seductive as her eyes, "I want your skin and your pleasure. I want your body and mine together. I want you, Remy, all of you."

She took his breath and then she took him.

After, a sheet tucked haphazardly between them as protection, tangled and sated, warm and sleepy, Remy kissed the curls tickling his nose. Rogue stirred, tracing a still-gloved fingertip over his chest. "I need a nap, me. You just settle down." Remy's chuckle shook her, as she was using his chest for a pillow, and made her lips curve.

"I'm settled, me. You de one came three times, _petite bouche_. Though I guess, considerin' other things, _little_ mouth don' really," a hand slapped over his offending mouth. Remy, he just howled a laugh into it while Anna Marie glowered, all lethargy forgotten. Remy licked her palm and tugged his girl back in. "Ain't no on here but us, Anna Marie. Nothin' to be ashamed of."

"I ain't ashamed. I jus' don't wanna…we don't gotta _say_…" When he chuckled again, the sound a dark stroke down her spine, Rogue snarled. She knew he felt the way she curved herself against him; she decided when you were in love with seduction himself your only option was distraction. "If you don't behave I ain't givin' you your present."

Eyes a sinful gleam over a slow curling smile, Remy didn't even try to resist the opening. "As I recall, I was gonna use a similar line on you. You tell and I won't ever do that thing you liked so much." She rolled her eyes. "Guess we both know that ain't true 'cause I like it just as much."

"Remy," said between gritted teeth.

"Anna," he said as if he wasn't about to give over to a bout of shouting laughter, "why you givin' me another present? 'Cause I liked the very fine one you jus' gave me."

Blushing, huffing, Rogue rolled over and pulled open a drawer. Then she sat up, the sheet pooling around her hips, and slapped an envelope on her smug lover's chest.

Remy, captivated by the lick of curls over skin and lush breasts, by the roughened-red and still peaked tips, didn't bother with the papers. He reached up to shape her with his hand. His thumb skimmed the nipple he'd bitten more than once as they'd rocked together on the bed. "Come closer," ordered, teasing forgotten.

Rogue leaned forward, a moan on her own lips, and braced herself on his chest. On the envelope. She jerked back and swatted his hand. "Damn it, Remy. How the hell do you do that? I swear I could just live in this bed with you. We'd starve to death, sure, but who would give a damn?"

Chuckling, his swatted hand falling to Rogue's sheet covered thigh, Remy didn't deny a thing. "I'm happy I keep you entranced."

"Thought you were gonna say satisfied," muttered darkly.

"That too." When her eyes sparked dangerously, he rubbed her thigh soothingly. "What about this gift? Looks like paper. You get left enough money that we can buy an island?"

When he started to really settle in, tucking his free hand behind his head, Rogue tweaked his nipple. Remy bared his teeth. "Don't tease if you ain't plannin' on finishin' what you start." Which earned another blush from his companion. He loved that blush; love that she blushed while he was steeped in the apple scent of her, the impression of her body under and over his still tingling along his nerves. Life was maybe perfect, no?

"No, I didn't get left any money. Besides, we got the lake house. We got our little piece of paradise. Now, please," and it was a struggle to say it, to focus when she wanted to lap him up again, "open it."

His expression indulgent, Remy sat up; they sat facing each other, knees touching in the shared tangle of sheets. The envelope was unmarked but stuffed to near bursting. After turning it in his deft fingers, inspecting it, Remy unsealed the thing only to have pages spring out; some were white, others a pale blue but with them all came a smell and with that smell a memory. "Anna?" That was all the question Remy could manage, his eyes flipping up to her face then back to the scattered pages in his lap.

When Remy didn't follow her name up with action, when he didn't move for the longest time, Rogue reached out and picked one up. She smoothed it for him. "They're yours. From, from your family. I wrote to them a while ago but then we left and they had to be forwarded from the mansion. I…"

"They'll get in trouble for this. The peace—"

"They won't," she was quick to interrupt. "It's worked out. I worked it out. Twice a year. Twice a year ya'll can exchange letters. It ain't perfect but it's done."

"How?"

"That don't matter. It's…you can tell them about your life and hear about theirs."

"Anna."

"Oh, God. I thought this would be…a good thing. I thought….you read my journals from when we were apart and so I thought…I thought…. I'm sorry. I'll take 'em back. I'll come up with an excuse." She moved to her knees, started gathering the pages. The crinkle of the paper seemed loud as gunshots. Then his hands caught her face and, looking at him, she saw the sheen of tears. Anna remembered the feeling of running from him, running to Scotland and away from Remy; the guilt and the gutted, hollow sensation from then wasn't dissimilar to now. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He shook his head, once, sharply. "No, no. You're a miracle, you know dat? A pure damn miracle an' I know I don't deserve you, me, but I ain't ever lettin' you go free."

"You're not mad," whispered.

"Stunned. Terrified. But never mad." His thumbs ran soothingly along her cheek bones. "Did you meet them? Tante and m'brother? Did you?"

She nodded between his cupped palms. "Yes."

"You didn't tell me."

"I wanted to wait so this would all be a surprise." She laughed as he did. "I guess that part worked out; I sure surprised you."

"You did, Anna Marie, from the moment I clapped eyes on you." He let her go and carefully gathered the letters she hadn't, took the ones from her hands, and set all of them aside.

Anna's eyes tracked the the pages, the years they held. "Aren't you gonna read 'em?"

"_Oui_, but not now. They'll keep. They'll be there."

As he drew her in for a kiss, she laughed, startled, her attention drawn back to the pile on the nightstand. "Well, so will I."

"But they can wait."

"So can—"

Remy kissed her quiet. "_Non. Non_, Anna Marie. You're first and last and always. We done our waitin'; now come here and let me love you."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

_"**J'etends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde." **_ From a poem by Paul Éluard: "I Hear your voice in all the world's noise"

I guess this is it. My final note on this story. You all have been fantastic. Thank you for all of the encouragement, for all of the comments, for sticking with me for two years, an unplanned hiatus, and a less than predictable posting schedule. Thank you for the commiseration over All the Things that have happened over that time: lost pets, new cars, lost jobs, new jobs.

Ya know, as I got closer to the end, I think I got a little frantic; I was eager to be done and also nervous about it. It felt like I raced to the finish, probably because I'd had so many different version getting me to that speech Rogue makes. (Fun fact: I wrote that nearly a year ago.) I feel like the epilogue maybe smooths that back out and provides as much of a wrap to the Case of the Collar as I can manage.

It's been especially lovely to know that this helped some of you through hard times, even if was just passing the time. I'm glad you laughed and cried and hated them and loved them because I did all of that too. I'm probably not going to start something immediately, but if you liked the story and think you'd like something else I wrote, put me on author alerts so we can do this together again soon.

I love and adore you all and can't say enough how very, very thankful I am you spent some time reading what started off as a way for me to pass time at work with my favorite fictional couple. I hope you all have just the best of All the Things. You totally deserve them.


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